


What happens in Vegas...

by PrettyCalypso



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Divorce, Gambling, M/M, Marriage, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, What Happens In Vegas AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:12:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyCalypso/pseuds/PrettyCalypso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What happens in Vegas" AU :<br/>Ian & Mickey meet on a drunken night in Vegas and get married, before winning the jackpot in a casino. They want a divorce, but the judge decides that if they want the money, they have to stay married at least 6 months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sin City

**Author's Note:**

> New multichap fic. I'm not done with "The world ain't ending, but it might as well be", but stuff happened and I needed a small break with a lighter fic.
> 
> The movie "What happens in Vegas" isn't the best movie ever, but I had fun imagining our two boys in this situation. The beginning is quite similar to the movie, but you'll see that I made more and more changes along the way.
> 
> I'm not an English native speaker and my work is unbeta'ed, so I take full responsability for all and any mistakes.

 

Ian Gallagher was at a good place in his life. He was finally out of the South Side, living in a nice apartment just outside the Loop. He had a good job, exhausting, but with a steady paycheck. He had his brain more or less under control, thanks to a great doctor, a stable environment, and the right cocktail of meds. And, most of all, he had a nice and very hot boyfriend. Mason and him had been living together for two years now, and had recently decided to get married. There wasn't any great romantic proposal, just a common agreement that their lives would be simpler if they were married, if only for the economic aspect of things.

“Here you go babe.” Ian said while handing his fiancé a cup filled with the smoothie he just made.  
It was their routine. Every morning, Ian created a new flavor of smoothie. He loved to just mix the fruits to obtain a savory juice. It was healthy, and perfectly adjusted to his diet.  
Mason took the cup without raising his eyes from his cell phone.  
“Oh, thanks.”  
He was very busy at work these days, and spent most of his time glued to his screen, whether it was his phone's or his laptop's. But this was a special morning, so Ian found himself hoping that his fiancé would make a little bit more effort. The redhead sure had.  
“I tried banana nut sprouts this morning.” he explained about his smoothie. “I thought, you know, a little change of taste. I thought somebody deserves something special for his birthday.”  
Mason tried the drink with a hint of a smile.  
“Yeah, it's good.”  
Ian fully smiled in return, before exposing his plans for the night.  
“Okay, so I made a reservation tonight at RL at 8.30. I thought we could talk about, you know, setting a date.”  
Mason raised his head this time, and he was finally actually smiling.  
“Did you just make a plan to make a plan?”  
“Did I just do that again?”  
“Yeah, you did.”  
“Sorry.”  
It was a new thing of his. Before, when he was growing up, Ian's life was messy, and unorganized. His family was all over the place, even though the siblings loved each other more than anything else. But since his diagnosis, Ian had decided he needed some order. So he organized everything in his life so things would be steady, which eventually lead him to make plans about making plans. He knew it was starting to be slightly too much for Mason, even though the guy was himself very neat and organized, so Ian was trying his best to not go overboard. Story of his life: always avoid the extremes.  
“It's alright.” Mason said gently, before grabbing his briefcase and heading for the door. “Okay, I'll see you later.”  
“Hey hey hey!” Ian called him back, grabbing his fiancé's shoulder to bring him closer. “Love you.”  
Mason took a step back. Ian leaned in to kiss him on the lips, but Mason pecked him quickly on the forehead.  
“Love you too. Bye.”  
Mason rushed to the door.  
“Bye. Happy birthday!” Ian shouted from the kitchen.  
“You too!” was Mason's answer just before he closed the door.

******

Jeffrey showed up at apartment 4B early that morning. It wasn't what they usually did, but he was very horny and knew Mickey Milkovich was never one to say no to sex. And indeed, Mickey didn't say no.  
Since he had moved out of his father's house and got his own place, Mickey felt more and more comfortable bringing guys home. He didn't date, because what's the point of buying expensive dinner when you can have perfectly good sex on the regular with no strings attached like he had with Jeff? Jeffrey was a nice enough guy – not that they actually talked that much – without being needy for commitment. The ideal fuck buddy. And the sex was good. Actually, the sex was always good now that Mickey had decided to not play games anymore and go full on dicks. No more banging chicks, like he used to do under his father's watchful eyes, and his sex life was finally good.

Jeff was quick to put his clothes back on once it was over. He never stayed to cuddle, too emotionally significant, and neither of the guys liked that too much anyway. They sometimes smoked for a bit afterward, but Jeff never stayed for more than an hour each time in Mickey's apartment, and he definitely never asked for anything. Except this time.  
“Mickey... I need a key.”  
Mickey almost choked on his cigarette. What the fuck? A key? To his place? Since when did Jeff want a fucking key? Shit. Jeff couldn't do that, he couldn't get attached. He would be so hard for Mickey to find a new fuck buddy, it had been a very long process to find Jeff in the first place, and he thought the guy would never ask for more! Shit.  
“Wow... Wow. That... A key?”  
Jeff huffed a small laugh when he witnessed Mickey apparent struggle.  
“What? No, I want a key, an actual key to your apartment so I don't have to wait outside in the freezing cold until you come home.” he finally explained.  
Mickey released his breath.  
“I don't wanna live with you.” Jeff added. “No offense. You know I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you're not exactly serious-boyfriend-marriage-material.”  
Mickey actually laughed this time.  
“And I pride myself on that.” he exclaimed.  
Jeff smiled, and headed for the door.  
“I gotta go. See you next time!”

******

Ian arrived right on time at work to catch the elevator with Michelle Chong. They were the two assistants to the CEO in this big company located downtown Chicago. Michelle had always a smile for Ian, but he knew it was fake. The girl was a shark, and she would probably do anything to take him down if they ever went in competition for a promotion, but for now, they just had to work hand in hand in a similar job, so she had to play nice. Ian didn't have to pretend, he was a genuinely nice person, he was always bringing back leftover food from his week-ends at Fiona's, or buying his colleagues balloons and cupcakes for their birthday, and he knew that Michelle hated him for that, but he honestly didn't care, as long as he could keep his job, he would put up with her hypocrisy.

******

So Jeff didn't actually want to “move forward” with Mickey, which was an honest to God relief. The black haired man thought the day had started badly, but it actually went pretty smoothly, until it didn't. He was of course late to the wood shop he worked at because of Jeff's impromptu morning visit, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Mickey had found this job as a carpenter a couple of months before he moved out of the Milkovich household. The manual job didn't require him to have finished high school, and the paycheck was good enough for him to afford to live on his own. Plus, his coworkers were okay to hang out with, and the boss was pretty cool. And Mickey liked to see wooden creations come to life in his own hands, it was a very rewarding feeling, to be able to create something beautiful with hands that had “FUCK U-UP” tattooed on their knuckles. But Mickey was still a Milkovich, they weren't raised to hold on to a legal job for too long, they weren't supposed to be good workers, except when they had to sell drugs or bust kneecaps. So Mickey didn't put too much effort into his job, he didn't care about coming in late, or not at all, he took too many smoke breaks, and even sometimes showed up hangover or still partially drunk, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted to, but being a good citizen, actually contribute to the economy of the country, he didn't know how to do that. So as long as he was payed, he figured his boss didn't have a problem with the attitude.  
Except he did. Of fucking course he did. Jack called Mickey into his office that day. He was a fifty-something blue collar who had built his business from nothing and didn't beat around the bush. As soon as Mickey sat down in the chair in front of him, he blurred it out.  
“You're fired.”  
“What?”  
“You're a good carpenter Mickey. A real good one. When I first saw what you did with a piece of wood between your hands, I thought I found my legacy. You know I don't have kids, and I seriously considered leaving you the shop one day.”  
Mickey had never been more surprised. Did Jack actually consider that option? Leaving his shop, his baby, to Mickey fucking Milkovich? Nobody had never shown such trust in him...  
“But you can't handle the pressure.” Jack continued. “As soon as it gets tough, you quit.”  
Mickey fisted his hands on his knees. Fuck no. Tough was his middle name. If there was indeed one thing Milkoviches were, it was tough. They could handle being beating down like no one else, they weren't afraid of blood and broken bones.  
“I know you're a tough South Side kid.” Jack added when he saw Mickey's hands contracted. “But that's not the tough we need here. We need commitment. I need someone who'll be there, on time, every single day, to deal with the orders. If I acted like you when I started, I would have been out on the streets in a couple of months. You can't run a business by showing up late, or drunk, no matter how talented you are. I'm sorry but I can't keep you, you're not Fuller's material. I want you gone by the end of the day.”  
Mickey nodded – he didn't know what else he could do by now – and left the office in silence.

******

“That's pathetic.”  
Ian finished putting the candles on the cake before looking up at his brother.  
“Come on Lip! A surprise party is fun. And I'm sure Mason will love it.”  
“Huh huh, sure. Can we start drinking now?”  
Ian sighed. His brother was exhausting. But it wasn't the right time to argue, so Ian just took the envelop he was hiding in his back pocket.  
“Look what I've got for Mason.”  
Lip snatched the present from his hands and took the plane tickets out.  
“Vegas? Seriously?”  
“Mason wants to go there. And it's a gift, it's supposed to be selfless.”  
“Yeah, right.”  
Ian sighed again.  
“This is why you can't stay in an actual long term relationship Lip. You don't know selfless.”  
Lip snorted, but didn't have time to reply as they both heard the elevator coming up. Ian quickly reminded his twenty or so guests to hide, and turned off the lights, before he opened the door. A second later, the elevator's doors were opening in front of him and Mason was getting out.  
“Hey babe!” Ian greeted him with a smile.  
“Hey.”  
“Welcome home! Happy birthday! Here, come inside.”  
Ian was talking fast, but he was excited and didn't want to blew it. He started to drag his fiancé toward the apartment, but the other man stopped him.  
“Wait! Listen, Ian. We need to talk.”  
“Okay, well, let's do it inside.”  
“No, no, no.” Mason insisted. “I can't, or I'll never do this. Look, there's no easy way to say this.”  
This should have been his clue, but Ian was too worked up in his surprise party that he really didn't see it coming.  
“Okay so then don't.” he just said. “Just think it, and then later I'll try to figure it out what it was you were thinking. For now, let's just go inside.”  
But Mason really didn't want to hear it.  
“No, no, no! This can't wait Ian.”  
He took Ian's hands and kept him steady in the hallway, in front of the wildly open door of their apartment, in which twenty guests were waiting for them.  
“You know I have a really important job, right? So when I come home I want this place to be an escape. And... it's not. Yes, the sex is great. I mean, that's fantastic. But the rest is so... exhausting! You're just so on all the time, with all the scheduling and planning, it's just... I don't wanna marry you Ian. I'm leaving you.”  
Oh no. Oh no. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not like that. Ian felt tears creeping up in his eyes before he could actually register what was happening. And Mason kept going, he kept talking.  
“I mean this is my place so technically you'll be the one that has to leave, but... Are you crying?”  
Ian's – well, ex – fiancé reached out to turn the lights on. And that's when the twenty witnesses decided to make their presence known via a very weak “Surprise...”  
“Oh... shit.” was all Mason said.

******

“Do you have any idea how much money I've made him?”  
Mandy nodded absentmindedly. Mickey had been rantling for the past hour about his boss and how much it sucked that he had been fired. I mean, she loved her brother, but this shit was getting old fast. Mickey finished his I-don't-even-know-how-many-anymore beer.  
“Do you think I can sue him?”  
“Sue him? Seriously Mickey? First time, we'll see a Milkovich on this side of the bar...”  
Mickey set his bottle loudly on the counter.  
“Yeah you're right, that sucks.”  
He took a couple of seconds to think before asking the actual question that had been bothering him for most of the day.  
“What am I gonna do about money? I can't lose my apartment, I can't go back to the house. Maybe I can ask Iggy if he needs some help unloading supplies, just so I can pay rent next month.”  
Mandy shook her head.  
“Bad idea Mick.”  
Yeah, he knew it was a bad, very bad, idea to go back to business with his brothers, but what else could he do? He didn't have any skills. Mandy seemed to have read his mind.  
“There's lots of stuff you can do Mick.”  
“Yeah, you're right. I have so many skills!”  
He turned to the patron sitting to his left.  
“Hey! I bet you five bucks I can finish this beer faster than you!”  
The guy didn't even think. And he looked already half drunk.  
“Really? You're on!”  
Mandy sighed and shook her head. Her brother was an idiot. But five rounds of this later, he was fifty bucks richer, and drunk off his ass.  
“You know what we should do?” he suddenly asked.  
Mandy shook her head. No, she didn't, but she had the feeling that it was about to be a bad idea.  
“We should go to Vegas!”  
“Why?” was all Mandy could ask. Because really, why?  
“Lots of opportunity to make money there. And it's fun!”  
Yeah, her brother was definitely drunk.  
“Lots of opportunity to lose money too.” she replied.  
“Oh come on Mands, it'll be fun! Easy booze, easy drugs...”  
“Easy guys.”  
“That too. So whatcha say?”  
Mandy knew she was going to regret this but...  
“Fuck it! Let's go to Vegas!”

******

“He doesn't deserve me.” Ian declared.  
“Fuck no!” Lip answered. “I've been saying that for years, and you know Fiona thinks that too. The guy was a jerk.”  
Ian huffed a laugh. Yeah, now that he actually thought about it, Mason wasn't that great of a guy. And he was boring, and too caught up in his “important job” to pay enough attention to Ian. Yep, he was better off without him. But it still sucked. Breakups always more or less suck anyway.  
“You know what could make you feel better?” Lip suddenly asked.  
“What?”  
“A place you can go to forget all of your trouble and act like a total idiot?”  
“The Alibi?”  
Lip smashed his brother on the back of his head. He reached for the envelop lying on the coffee table.  
“No, you jackass! A place with better lights, and fifty different shades of idiocy...”  
“Please, don't say Vegas...”  
“Vegas baby!”  
Las Vegas, seriously? Ian had only bought the tickets to please Mason, but he had never actually wanted to go. And he thought Lip would back him up on this, Vegas was a stupid place people on the South Side never dream of going to.  
“Vegas?” he asked, unsure.  
Lip nodded.  
“Vegas.”

 


	2. What's mine is yours, baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mean things are going to be said in this chapter, sorry about that.  
> Using the bad stuff in someone's life to hurt them is not something you should do, ever.

 

“Come on man, let's just go out, have a drink, and find you a good rebound guy, some good sex American style!”  
Ian sighed. They just checked in their hotel room in Vegas, and Lip was already talking about going out, he didn't want to waste any time, but Ian was more than okay with taking his time.  
“First of all, I don't think this is a thing. Second, you know I can't actually drink.”  
Lip took a deep breath, putting his hands on his brother's shoulders.  
“Ian, my man. We didn't come all the way to Vegas for you to just sit on your ass all night. We're going out.”  
When Lip was that decided, there was nothing Ian could do to stop him, it was 'let's get you a blowjob from my sort-of-girlfriend to prove that you're really gay' all over again. So Ian just nodded.  
“Okay, I will go out, but I won't hook up.”  
Lip patted his right shoulder.  
“Good enough for now. Let's go enjoy The City of Sins.”

The bar Lip chose wasn't one of those new classy clubs promoting their VIP clients, but it was still way fancier than most bar in the South Side – not that it was actually difficult – with disco lights and loud electronic music. It kind of reminded Ian of this gay bar he used to work at, except that the half naked men dancing here were sharing the stage with half naked women – _'entertainment for everybody'_ were advertizing the fliers.  
The two brothers sat in a booth at a good distance from the DJ so they could hear each other, but not too far away from the dance floor either, they were still looking for some fun – or at least Lip was. The oldest Gallagher didn't waste any time in going to the bar and coming back with a beer for himself, and a Coke for Ian.  
“So... See anyone you like?”  
“I told you, I don't want to find some random rebound guy. Not tonight anyway.”  
In reality, Ian had already spotted one or two guys he might like, but he didn't really feel like acting on it, he was perfectly fine just hanging out with his brother for the night. Not that that lasted. Not even five minutes later, Lip had already disappeared in the crowd, cruising hot loose girls way too inebriated for their own good, and Ian was still sitting in his booth, nursing his Coke alone like the loser he was who's just been dumped by his fiancé.

******

“What about him?” Mandy asked from her seat at the counter, pointing at a tall muscular blond guy way too obviously flirting with a girl with huge breasts.  
“Don't look very gay.” Mickey answered.  
“I meant for me, dumbass! But if you want some dick tonight, check out that hot piece of ass talking with the barman!”  
Mickey looked. Too tanned, too flamboyant, too gay. No thanks. In reality, he already had someone in mind. There was this hot redhead who had came in about fifteen minutes earlier and had been abandoned way too soon by his wing man. He was now just sitting alone in his booth. Easy target and looked like a good quick fuck. When Mandy went for her new guy for the night, Mickey ordered two beers from the bar and walked toward his own target. He placed the bottle in front of the redhead before sitting in the booth across from him.  
“Look like you need a beer more than some innocent soda.” he said as an introduction.  
The guy looked up. Shit, he was hotter up close. He eyed the drink, than Mickey, and the drink again. He seemed to think it over.  
“Come on, it won't kill you.” Mickey continued. “And I promise I'm not trying to roofie you.”  
“It's not that.” the redhead finally talked. “It's just that I'm not really supposed to... But one beer won't kill me right?”  
The guy smiled. So Mickey smiled too. And they started drinking.

******

“So, what brings you to Sin City?” the black haired guy asked.  
He was cute, but not that hot. And really, Ian wasn't interested. But he answered anyway.  
“Just being spontaneous, cutting loose, like everyone else. What about you?”  
“Me? I'm here on business. Big business actually. I'm... uh... I'm a pretty important guy.”  
And a guy obviously full of crap.  
“Really?”  
The guy laughed.  
“No. Actually I just got fired. So cheers to that.”  
“I just got dumped, so... Salute.”  
Ian knew he shouldn't drink, but an hour later he had three beers in his system and was drunker that he had been in a very long time – the meds made him a real lightweight. It made the other guy laugh, who decided to catch up with him by ordering a few shots of vodka. Not long after that, Ian stood up and caught the guy by the arm. He hadn't danced in a long time but right now he really felt like it. He brought the guy with him on the dance floor, and they stared moving stupidly against each other, it wasn't even sexy, just some intense drunk dancing. And they kept telling each other stuff. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Ian just needed to talk, but he found himself opening his bag to this random guy who had just bought him a drink.  
“You were right about me...” he more or less shouted in the guy's ear.  
“It's like you're trying to come in first, but it's someone else's race.” the guy finished.  
Yes, exactly! And Ian had seen right in his game too:  
“You never felt good enough, so you took yourself out of the game.”  
“Fuck yeah!”  
They drank. They laughed. They danced. They talked.  
“My dad's a homophobic prick who likes nothing more than beating me up.”  
“I'm bipolar!”  
“The fuck is that?”  
“High highs follow by low lows, over and over again. And I'm not supposed to drink on my meds!”  
They laughed. They danced. They drank. They shared.

******

Mickey told some very deep stuff to this guy he didn't even know the name of, but he really didn't care. He was having more fun that he had in long time. He even danced. He never danced, ever. And he laughed, he laughed so much. He had probably way too much to drink, but who the hell cared? As long as he stayed in control of his actions...  
Soon, but maybe not soon enough, came the touching, the skin on skin, the clothes flying all over the place, the kisses – wait... did they actually kiss?... Moaning, gasping, grasping, groping, panting... And fucking, so much fucking...

******

When Ian woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. He was naked in this big ass bed, the sheets all over the place, and the large window hovering the many skyscrapers of Las Vegas. He was alone and had the biggest hangover known to men. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times, adjusting carefully to the bright light, until he noticed something on his hand. A red heart in which was written in black letters “I + M 4ever”. Fuck!  
“Please be fake, please be fake...” he muttered while trying to erase the awful drawing.  
Thank god it was just marker ink, and it went away with just a little saliva. He sighed loudly and ran a hand over his face. He wasn't even sure he actually remembered the face of the guy of last night, even less his name, he just had a blurry memory of some amazing sex, but even that might not even be the truth, he was really hammered, and what he really didn't need was some stupid tattoo to remember this stupid night _'4ever'_. Wait... He lowered his hand on the pillow. Was that? A fucking ring? A cheap golden ostentatious ring decorated with two dices. On his... ring finger. Holy fuck. Ian suddenly sat up in his bed. He was breathing heavily now. What did he do? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He looked around. The floor was scattered with clothes, his shoes were nowhere to be found, there was at least three opened condom wrappers on the nightstand and... a note tapped on the mirror? Ian slowly stood up to be able to read it.  
“Hey hubby – we're at the buffet. Mickey”  
SHIT!!!

******

“I don't think you can divorce here.” Mandy explained while serving herself a huge plate of food. “You got to do it where you live. Beside, you don't want a divorce, alright? You want an annulment.”  
“This is what happened in Vegas, you pay for it when you come back home. That's the thing... What if he's a crier? What if he's a clinging crier?”  
Mandy shrugged.  
“You kill him. Problem solved.”  
Mickey thought for a second. Yeah, maybe that could work...  
“I'm kidding.” Mandy added. “Was he at least a good fuck?”  
Mickey searched through his memory for the answer to that question. His head was hurting, so bad.  
“I don't... I don't even remember. This city is built on excess and bad decisions. Vegas should be the only place on Earth where you can't get married!”  
“I know.” Mandy sighed. “But hold it together, break it off, and for the love of god take that stupid ring off your finger!”  
Mickey looked at the tacky golden ring he was still wearing. He turned his hand up and down.  
“But I kinda like it, looks like a 1950s mobster don't you think?”  
“No, it does not. It's a cheap fucking piece of jewelry you got for five bucks in a vending machine.”  
To be honest, Mickey didn't actually remember where he got it. He could have spent the rest of his bank account on it for all he knew. He didn't remember much about last night. A lot of alcohol maybe, some sex, and of course the biggest fucking mistake of his life – or maybe the second biggest, but that wasn't the point here. Seriously, who the fuck gets married in Vegas? That stuff happens only in the movies, or on TV, not in real life, and certainly not to Mickey Milkovich. But it did, it did fucking happened. And now, he had not only to dump his one-night-stand, but also to divorce him! Talk about fucked-up situations...

******

“Was there any part of the night, like, I don't know, the part when I was about to marry the rebound guy, you thought that it was a good time for an intervention?” Ian shouted at his brother when he finally got a hold of him.  
Lip massaged his head.  
“You mean when I was banging Stella and her sister? Or when I was passed out in my own puke long enough to make Frank proud?”  
Ian sighed and rested his head against the wall of the elevator. When he was engaged to Mason, he couldn't imagine marrying him without at least a year of planning beforehand, and last night he said yes to a man he had known for only a few hours. How fucked up was that? For the umpteenth time in his life, he felt like a true Gallagher, and he was sick of it. He really hoped that one day he would finally be able to handle his life like a functional adult, but that didn't look like it would happen in a near future.  
Ian and Lip joined Mickey – it was Mickey right? - and his... sister? at the buffet downstairs. The ambiance was tensed, to say the least, and filled with awkward laughter and small talk.  
“I could drink some orange juice.” Ian said.  
Mickey gave him his glass.  
“Here. What's mine is yours, right?”  
Ian nodded.  
“Yeah, that's... Yeah... Mickey?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Can I talk to you, in private?”  
“Yup.”  
Ian stood up and walked toward one of the slot machine. He needed to keep his hands busy. He inserted a coin and pulled on the bandit. He didn't win anything, not that he was actually surprised, he didn't really play to win, but he renewed the operation one more time. Mickey came to stand next to him.  
“Hey.”  
“Hey.”  
“So...” Ian started. “Great night, huh?”  
Mickey nodded for way too long.  
“Yeah... I mean you were... you are a lot of fun. Last night was soooo... great. But maybe there was one little thing.”  
“I think I know what you mean.”  
They laughed awkwardly.  
“Okay, there is no easy way to say this...” Mickey said.  
Wow wait.  
“Are you dumping me?” Ian asked.  
Mickey seemed taken aback but also relieved.  
“You didn't....” he started.  
“No, I was coming down here to dump you!” Ian exclaimed, way too happily.  
“Oh fuck great!”  
They both let go of their breath.  
“So we're good?”  
“Yeah!”  
“Okay, disaster averted.”  
Fuck yeah. Maybe this whole fucking morning was turning better than it started for Ian.  
“I'm sorry.” Mickey continued. “It's just that you look like the type of guy who wants a serious relationship, and I'm not... No offense, but you look like a lot of work.”  
Ian shook his head. Was he serious right now?  
“Are you dumping me again?”  
Mickey ran a hand through his hair.  
“I'm at a really weird place right now.”  
“Where's that? The starting line? Because newsflash Mickey, the gun went off a long time ago!”  
“Okay... Look at that. Employee handle criticism... poorly.”  
“Oh oh. Then maybe you should teach a seminar, because clearly you can't keep a job!”  
The voices were raising slowly but surely. Ian just wanted a clean break, but by the look of things, it was going to be ugly.  
“Look at that, you had to come all the way to Vegas and marry a complete stranger just to prove that you're not a robot!” Mickey cried out. “Congratulations!”  
The next words came out of Ian's mouth before he could stop then, but he regretted them immediately. It was a low blow, especially coming from him, but fuck that, Mickey was being a douche!  
“And you, your father, he's the one person who's biologically programmed to love you, and even he can't stand you!”  
Mickey's eyes went dark and dangerous.  
“Wow. Fuck you! This is why we'd never work: cause I could never, ever, be with someone that's so completely broken!”  
“Broken?”  
“Broken!”  
“You don't even know me!” was the only thing Ian could reply, because, really, he didn't want to admit that Mickey had touched where he shouldn't have, and that maybe he was a little right.  
“No, I don't fucking know you!” Mickey shouted back. “And I got a feeling that neither do you! You know what... I'll call you about the annulment!”  
“Yeah, you do that!”  
Ian was full on angry now. This guy was a complete and utter jerk. He started walking back to their table and his brother. He was ready to get the hell out of here, and quick.  
“Hey!” Mickey called back, handing Ian's last quarter over his head. “We'll always have Vegas!”  
“Hey that's mine jackass!”  
Mickey just smirked and kissed it, before inserting it in the machine. Ian turned around. Fuck, he was so wind up right now, and so ready to go back to Chicago. But a sudden electronic sound made him stopped dead on his tracks. The machine Mickey was at was now showing three identical “Triple Jackpot Diamond”, and the number $3,000,000 was flashing across the screen.  
“What the fuck?”

 

 


	3. Who melted my spatula?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed Mickey to melt a spatula. That's all.

 

It was like everything happened in slow motion. Mickey inserted the money in the machine, making a show of it to piss Ian off even more, then the screen showed a first _'Triple Jackpot Diamond'_ , and a second, and finally a third, and after that it was all lights and music, and three fucking millions dollars. Some guy in an ugly green tux came to shake his hand and hand him a giant check while people took pictures. And Mandy was there somewhere, mouth gaping. Three millions dollars. Mickey just won three millions dollars. It was starting to sink in. He was rich, like stupidly rich. Holy fuck. He smiled against his will, holding his giant check in front of him, slowly becoming blind because of the flashes of all the cameras around him. And suddenly he felt the piece of cardboard being pulled away from him. He turned his head. Ian was there, holding the other end of the check and smiling ferociously.  
“It was my quarter.” the redhead muttered between his teeth.  
Mickey almost busted out laughing. This guy was being ridiculous. He took a one dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to him.  
“Here. You quadrupled your investment.”  
Mickey then pulled one last time on the giant check and began walking away with it. Until Ian's voice called him back.  
“What happened to 'what's mine is yours', _baby_? We're married now, remember?”

******

The court room was almost empty, except for Ian, Mickey, and a few people who came in there to eat their lunches.  
“I only knew him for four hours before we _'got married'_. Three and a half of which were spent in a state of total inebriation.” Mickey stated.  
The judge turned to Ian.  
“You, the other one, do you have any proof you entered this marriage knowingly?”  
Ian didn't really want to do this, he would have rather walk away from Mickey as soon as possible and forget all about this stupid night, but three millions dollars. If he could obtain at least half of it, it would be the best contribution to the Squirrel Fund ever made and help his siblings for a long time. Neither Ian, nor Mickey had decided to take a lawyer, too expensive and not very useful in this situation, therefore they were left to defend themselves in front of a very bored looking judge.  
“Let me see.” the redhead started while looking through his things. “Will a note do?”  
He held up a white napkin in a plastic bag on which was written _'Ian + Mickey 4-eva'_.  
“It's a start.” the judge replied.  
“And then there's a photo.”  
Ian brandished a huge frame capturing the 'happy couple' at what looked like their finest drunken moment. He had found out about all these stuff before leaving Vegas, the napkin was at the foot of his bed, and the rest of the evidence in his phone.  
“There's also a video.” he finished before pushing 'play' on the court's remote.  
The TV at the left of the judge then produced what was probably one of the most shameful film of his life, but whatever, it was worth at least 1.5 millions dollars. It showed Mickey holding Ian awkwardly while talking directly to the person filming.  
“I'm going to provide for him, to love him, because we're married!”  
“Yeah, we're married!” Ian added.  
Before they both screamed happily at the camera. And the video ended.  
The judge looked annoyed by this whole story. He took a second before talking.  
“I don't like you.” he declared. “I don't like any of you, your generation with your Vegas, your Internet, and you're 'I want it right now'... I don't think gay people are destroying the sanctity of marriage, but I believe you are. Marriage is about love and commitment. Listen, I've been married 25 years to the same wonderful infuriating woman, and granted there are days when I want to light her on fire, but I don't, because I love her, and that would be illegal. And I may be old fashioned, but when I said those wows out loud I meant them. Before, or should I say if, I ever allow either of you out of this marriage, I'm going to make sure that you try everything, and I do mean everything first to make it work.”  
Ian and Mickey both stood up at the same time.  
“Objection!”  
“Objection your honor, you can't do that!”  
The judge smiled.  
“Oh watch me! Now, either one of you has a place to live?”  
Ian realized he hadn't thought about that. He had been kicked out of Mason's place and was currently crashing on Lip's couch, but it was just temporary.  
“I don't at the moment your honor.” he answered. “But I will. You see I...”  
“I have a place.” Mickey interrupted him.  
“Okay, great.” the judge continued. “I am freezing the three millions dollars for the next six months and sentencing you two to six months of marriage. And so I can keep an eye on you, I'm ordering you both into weekly marital counseling.”  
Oh fuck!

******

“Can he do that?”  
Mandy poured some more coffee into her brother's cup so she could stay next to him at the counter of the diner and pretend she was working.  
“Well he's the judge, so I guess he can do whatever he wants.”  
Mickey had told her in lengthy details how, if he wanted at least half the money, he had to stay married for the next six months with... how did he put it? The ginger fuckhead?  
“And he clearly wants to make an example out of you both. But if you just do what the guy says, he'll be forced to grant you a divorce, in which case he'll probably split the money equally as marital property.”  
Mickey raised his head and his eyebrows.  
“Talking like a lawyer much?”  
Mandy sighed.  
“I just looked it up online. You know, what's happening when you're filthy rich and want a divorce. Maybe you went to court unprepared and unrepresented, but at least _I_ knew what the fuck was going on.”  
Mickey drunk some coffee and shrugged.  
“Yeah, whatever. I still have to live with this alien looking shithead...”  
“Maybe it's a good thing...”  
“How is it a good thing that _I_ am married?”  
“Well at least now you have a roommate to split the rent with, so you don't have to move out or sell drugs with Iggy if you don't find another job by the end of the month.”  
Mickey nodded. Yeah, maybe this particular detail wasn't such a bad thing...

******

Mickey's apartment wasn't as far in the Southside as the Gallagher's family house, but Ian still felt down going there. He always thought that once he'd got out of the Southside, he'd never come back, but there he was, climbing the stairs with his backpack and his boxes to the fourth floor of an old building non-equipped with an elevator. Mickey was waiting for him in front of his open door, having buzzed Ian in only a few minutes prior. He was sipping a beer and was not looking happy. The redhead tried to lighten the mood with a smile – they would be living together for the next six months after all – but all Mickey gave him in return was an eyebrow raise somewhere between annoyed and interrogating. So Ian just shrugged it off and entered his new home. The place was okay – messy, but okay. There was a main room with an open kitchen and a living room composed mainly of a rundown couch and a huge flat screen TV, as well as a weirdly placed wooden bar near the window. On the other side of the room were two doors – a bathroom and a bedroom Ian guessed.  
“Okay.” Mickey finally said when closing the door. “You can put your stuff... wherever.”  
He gestured vaguely toward the floorboard.  
“Rents due on the 24 – I figured we'd do 50/50 since you're gonna stay for a while. You can do your own grocery, I'll do mine. And neighbor's a mean old bitch.”  
Ian nodded.  
“Okay, sure. What about chores?” he couldn't help but ask. “We could do a planning, for like dishes, laundry, cleaning...”  
Mickey looked at him with a mocking smile.  
“Seriously? A planning for chores? Don't you think we're a little too old for this shit?”  
Ian snorted and made a show of looking around him. This was actually quite funny considering there was a pile of dirty dishes in the sink – Ian counted at least a week worth of plates and glasses – dirty clothes scattered all around the apartment, and the floor looked like it hadn't been clean in... probably a few years.  
“Clearly you're not.”  
Mickey would probably punch him at one point, he seemed like he really wanted to, but not this time. He just mouthed a very unsubtle “fuck you” and went crashing on his couch before starting a new game at whatever video game he was playing before Ian arrived.

The redhead took a self-tour of the apartment. The bathroom was... well the only word was _sordid_. The bedroom was okay though, so Ian decided to make this room his. He emptied one of Mickey's biggest drawer, moving its original content to the one under it, and carefully placed his clothes in it, before taking the picture frame of his family out of his backpack and placing it on the top of the wardrobe. And when that night Mickey handed him a comforter and a pillow to sleep on the couch, Ian shook his head and made it very clear he was taking the bedroom. It might have been bitchy, because it was Mickey's apartment and Mickey's bed, but the other man just shrugged it off so Ian figured he didn't actually mind. And oh man, was he wrong to have declined the couch! It took him about two hours and a half to clean the bed of all the dirty underwear and socks hidden in it, to take off the sheets – which smelled like sweat and sex, and not the good kind – and to go down to the laundry room to wash them because Mickey didn't have any spare sheets.

So on the very next morning, the war was on.

******

Mickey was woken up from his not-so-uncomfortable night on the couch by a horrible sound too close to his ear.  
“What the fuck?”  
He sat up, running his hand over his still sleepy eyes, and looked around. His new very annoying ginger roommate was smiling at him from the kitchen, his hand on top of the mixer – the fucking cause of all the fucking noise.  
“Want a smoothie?”  
“No, I don't fucking want a smoothie! What time is it?”  
“7.30, you know the time people who actually work wake up at.”  
Mickey's eyes opened wide in disbelief.  
“You woke me up at 7 fucking am for a stupid smoothie? Are you shitting me?”  
Ian kept smiling like an idiot.  
“Oh Mick... It's almost cute you think it's early...”  
“Don't use that nickname, and don't call me 'cute'.”  
Ian just shook his head before pouring the greenish liquid into a cup and heading toward the bathroom. Once he was in there, Mickey realized he actually really needed to pee. He tried to wait for a couple of minutes, but the fucker wasn't coming out, so Mickey took his chance by knocking on the door.  
“Come on man, get out, I need to pee.”  
“In a minute!” Ian's singing voice answered.  
So Mickey waited, and waited, and waited. Until he couldn't wait anymore. He looked around him and thought for a second. The smoothie? No, that was just too crass, and maybe even poisoning, he didn't need to justify that in front of the judge. Oh, the sink! He climbed above the sink full of dirty dishes and started to relieve himself above it when Ian opened the door of the bathroom. Mickey just smirked at him before stating:  
“By the way planning boy, it's your turn to do the dishes!”

******

Ian had a very rough day at work. It was rumored in the office that promotions might be given by the end of the month, so Michelle was meaner than usual, all teeth and nails and barely any hypocrisy. On his way home, the redhead stopped by the grocery store to buy some fruits and milk, vegetables, a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs, and a pack of meat. He was trying to only eat healthy food, but when he walked by a box of microwaved pop corn on sale, he decided that he really needed it.

Mickey was already in front of the TV when he got home, zapping through the channels from one lame show to the other. The man had probably spent his day there. Ian decided to blatantly ignore him. He cleaned the dishes – with gloves and a lot of pre-washing – cooked himself a nice meal, and finally prepared his popcorn before pouring them in a large bowl and sitting on the couch – letting as much distance as he could between him and his _'husband'_. Not even five minutes later, Mickey was putting a hand down his own sweatpants and made a show of scratching his crotch, before taking his hand off and dumping it Ian's bowl of popcorn.  
“Oh great! I know that the box said _'movie_ _theater_ _butter',_ but you guess it, what I really wanted was _'Mickey's_ _sweaty_ _ball sack_ _'_ flavor, thanks. _”_  
The black haired man didn't answer, nor made a face, he just grabbed the bowl and poured the entire content inside his sweatpants.  
“I'm just giving you what you wanted baby.”

******

The very next morning, Mickey woke up early, on his own. Earlier than Ian. He needed to come up with ideas to annoy the shit out of the guy. He didn't come up with much, but it was a start – he'll probably have to ask his brothers for advice about these stuff in the future. When Ian walked in the kitchen – already fully dressed – for his breakfast, Mickey was standing in the middle of the room, in his boxers and a tank top, drinking directly out of the redhead's milk carton. And when he finished it, he waved it in front of his _'husband'_ 's face.  
“Heads up man, you're out of milk.”  
Ten minutes later, he was back in his spot on the couch when Ian's voice came loudly to his ears.  
“Did you fucking melt my spatula?”

 

 


	4. Dana Twitchell

 

Dana Twitchell had been a marital counselor for the past twenty years. She had seen couples hating each other, couples still loving each other but who had lost their ways, couples who just didn't care anymore, all kind of couples. She probably couldn't say she had seen them all, but she wasn't that far from it. And one thing she could definitely say is that the new couple sent by Judge Whopper wasn't anything new, they were almost boring to be honest. They arrived hand in hand, fake smiles plastered on their too pretty faces, and sat way too close to each other.  
“So,” she started “Mickey. Tell me about yourself. What are your hobbies?”  
The black haired man smiled even more – if it was possible.  
“Hobbies? You mean beside my marriage? Huh... My hobbies. I'll just say I love loving him. It's so easy.”  
Dana nodded slowly. Right. One of those couples.  
“What else?” Mickey continued. “Listening. I love listening to what he has to say. It's just so interesting. Actually I always have this notebook with me, just so I can write it down, because usually it's so important. Hum... What else? Just, you know, being there, for him, in general. Loving him, so much it hurts.”  
The _'happy couple'_ laughed awkwardly together.  
“It really hurts.” the red haired man added, while his husband kept rambling over and over again.  
At one point, Dana knew she had to make it stop.  
“Ian?” she asked.  
“I'd have to agree.” he answered. “And I'd have to had, you know, staring at him. I mean I just love watching him be. I love everything about him. Most people would be repulsed. But not me. I just love him.”  
Dana nodded one last time.  
“Okay.” she said with a professional smile. “I'm not buying any of the bullshits you two are selling today.”  
They both moved their heads slowly, their smiles fading, their bodies moving away from each other.  
“If you want me to report the court that you're both working on your marriage, you're gonna actually have to do that.”

******

It was a tradition they both started when they stopped living in the same house: Mickey and Mandy were having lunch together at least once a week. Usually always at the same diner at equal distance between both their apartments. And today was no exception. Mickey was eating his favorite burger, while Mandy had preferred a salad – her boss was constantly bugging her about her weight, she had to stay thin so that the gross costumers in their 40s tipped more.  
“Marriage is hard.” Mickey declared between two bites. “I need to get laid. It's been forever since I went so long between two fucks.”  
Mandy put her fork back on the table.  
“Dude, I'm eating. Could you at least wait until I'm finished before talking about your sex life?”  
Mickey shrugged.  
“Hey, we all do it. No point denying it.”  
“Yeah, but I'm feeling much better when I'm not picturing you sticking it in some guy.”  
Mickey smirked.  
“Who says it's not the other way around?”  
“Oh god.” Mandy said while she pushed her plate away from her. “I think I'm done now.”

But the very next day, she was barging into Mickey's apartment in the middle of the afternoon and dumping her purse on the couch next to her still-in-his-sweatpants-brother.  
“I know what we need to do.”  
Mickey barely raised his eyes from the video game he was playing.  
“Well hello to you too.”  
“You know all these divorces we see on TV, with rich ass people who just want to take their spouse's money? You know what the perfect excuse always is?”  
Mickey wasn't really interested in his shitty _'fake'_ marriage for now, and would just be content destroying some zombies on his screen, but Mandy clearly wasn't having it, so he paused his game and turned to his sister.  
“What? Murder?”  
Mandy shook her head.  
“No dumbass! Infidelity! We need to get your hot ginger husband to cheat on you! The deal with the judge is for you to try to make your marriage work. But if your husband cheat, it's not your fault, plus you can get all of the money...”  
Mickey thought about it for a little while, turning the idea over and over again in his head. Yeah, this could work. Having Ian cheat on him? Not hard. He could bring him to some very flamboyant gay bar, make him drink some alcohol, and the guy would be gone, literally out of his life, without having to kill him. If he was in a movie right now, Mickey would have laugh this evil cliché bad guy laugh, because this new plan was joyfully diabolical.

******

For the first time since he moved in, Ian came home from work to an empty apartment. Mickey wasn't in his usual spot on the couch, the TV wasn't on, and the place was weirdly silent. But Ian wasn't about to complain: some privacy, finally! Growing up in a house full of siblings, he was used to not have any privacy – like ever – but it was different to always be surrounded by siblings he loved, and to always be in presence of an asshole of a stranger who was supposed to be his husband.  
Ian kicked off his shoes near the door and crashed lifelessly on the couch. Michelle was being extremely mean at work these days, and Ian could finally relax by choosing himself what to watch on TV, nobody was there to steal the remote or switch channel at the most interesting moment of a show. He was half through his third episode of a _Friends_ marathon, and was already nodding off, when he heard a knock on the door. For a moment, he considered not answering. But he finally raised his lazy ass off the couch and opened the door. There were three men in the hallway, wearing not nearly enough clothes for the Chicago weather, with their lips stretched in big flirty smiles.  
“Hi.” the blond one said in a syrupy voice. “We're locked out of our apartment. Can we wait here until our friends arrive?”  
Ian looked around. Was there a hidden camera somewhere? Did he just step into a bad porn? He nodded slowly and opened the door wider.  
“Yeah... Okay...”  
And in case they were here to murder him – even though it looked VERY unlikely that these guys would even hurt a fly – Ian had a Southside background and JROTC training, he could disembowel someone with a roll of dimes and an old gym sock. The three guys were only beginning to flirt with the redhead, when came a second knock on the door. Ian opened to two more guys – those ones were bringing champagne – and the five men put on some music to start what would most likely become a wild party. So Ian took his phone and went out on the balcony, calling Lip.  
“Did I miss my birthday or something?”  
“What?”  
“There are some random dudes in the apartment ready to party. Do you know anything about it?”  
Ian waited for his brother to answer. The other man seemed to be thinking.  
“It's not me.” he finally said. “Maybe your 'hubby' is having some friends over?”  
“He's not here.”  
“Wait... He's not here? And these guys, how are they acting?”  
“Weird. Like they're in some bad porn.”  
“They're flirting with you?”  
“Some of them.”  
The redhead heard Lip cursed.  
“Do not sleep with any of them!” he suddenly screamed.  
Ian raised his hands and eyebrows in disbelief, before he remembered his brother couldn't see him.  
“I was not going to!”  
“Good. Because if you do, Mickey can take all of the money in the divorce. Do not cheat on him!”  
Realization suddenly hit Ian. Mickey could win the divorce in case of Ian's infidelity, and these guys were definitely not Mickey's friends. They were here for Ian.  
“Oh fucker!” he shouted before hanging up, not even listening to what else Lip had to say, and dialed quickly another number.

******

Mickey had deserted the apartment on purpose. He had spent the night in another apartment, in front of another TV, watching the 1990s _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ TV series with a seven-year-old while eating candy. And he knew that in the same time, his _dear husband_ was struggling to keep it in his pants while his place was being invaded by a group of very horny gay men. It was Mandy's idea to do that instead of Mickey's original plan, and she had found the guys – they were definitely not Mickey's usual crowd. So when he reached the front door of his apartment, he was so sure he had won the three millions dollars that it didn't even occur to him that Ian might have been on to something himself. The living room was filled with at least twenty people – all men – dancing, drinking, laughing, and all very promiscuous, while Ian sat quietly on one of the bar stool, looking at Mickey with a knowing smile. Mickey took the beer handed to him by some guy and raised it toward his husband with a smirk. Yes, two could play at this game, but he was going to play it better.  
An hour later though, he had been hitted on by half the guys at the party, had said “no” more times he ever had in his entire life, and all he wanted was to crash on his couch for a good night sleep. And the party got even wilder when two strippers dressed as cops showed up at the door and the crowd went wild. So Mickey did the only thing he could do: he grabbed a pack of beer, and headed straight for the bathroom. It was only when he closed the door behind him that he noticed Ian sitting on the edge of the bathtub.  
“Oh hi.”  
“Hey.”  
“I was just trying to find some quiet from the craziness.”  
The redhead nodded.  
“Yeah. Me too.”  
Mickey put his pack on the ground and took two cans out of it. He handed one to Ian.  
“Beer?”  
The other man raised his head and shook it. Mickey put the can back on the ground.  
“Right. Sorry.”  
He took a sip of his beer and sat on the closed toilet seat.  
“You really think I'm dumb enough to cheat on you?” Ian suddenly asked.  
“I think it's only a matter of time.” Mickey answered before swallowing some more beer.  
“S'not because you can't keep it in your pants for six months that I can't.”  
Mickey snorted. This guy was so sure of himself. True, Mickey hadn't been celibate for this long in a few years, and he was quickly getting tired of only having his hand for company, but that didn't mean he couldn't do it.  
“It must be so hard for you.” the redhead added with a cocky smile.  
“What?” Mickey snapped.  
“Being in a relationship.”  
“I have been in relationships before.” Mickey mumbled hardly loud enough to cover the giant lie.  
“Oh come on! Remember I've been living with you for the past few weeks. You're not exactly serious-boyfriend-marriage-material.”  
“It must be hard for you too. Being married with me when you so clearly in love with your ex.”  
Ian let a silence pass before answering. The only proof Mickey needed to know he was right.  
“I'm not... I'm not in love with him.”  
“Yeah. Right.”  
“I'm not. In fact, I'm happy I'm not with him anymore. I spent the last three years of my life trying to be someone else's idea of perfect, and I still don't feel good enough for him.”  
Mickey raised his eyebrows knowingly.  
“Not what I meant.” Ian muttered.  
Mickey stood up and started walking toward him.  
“Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me.”  
“You're such an asshole. I don't care if I ever see him again.”  
Mickey was so close to Ian now. Their noses almost touching.  
“Oh thank you, that makes me feel so much better, _baby_.”  
“That has nothing to do with you Mickey.”  
“Don't worry about me. I'm a married man. We don't need to have sex.” he declared, before lowering his voice, speaking so close to Ian's face he could feel their breaths mingle. “And I'll tell you another thing: I'm not going anywhere because I'm not screwing this thing up.”  
“Neither am I.” Ian answered not much louder. “I'm in it for the long run. Until death do us part.”  
His eyes were set on Mickey's, who could decipher all the different shades of green and brown in them, his breath was hot on Mickey's lips, and his voice was so low, only for Mickey to hear. The black haired man felt his gaze drop to Ian's lips for a second, a short second when maybe it wouldn't have been that bad to kiss them, but he quickly brought himself back together to mouth his last words.  
“Unless I kill you first.”

******

The next time Dana Twitchell saw the 'court delivered' couple, she genuinely smiled. Things had shifted. They were sitting at a normal people distance from each other, and they couldn't stop screaming, and gesturing.  
“He's a fucking child!”  
“He's a control freak!”  
“He melted my spatula!”  
“That's 'cause you woke me up at the crack of dawn, you asshole!”  
“He literally does nothing ALL DAY LONG!!!”  
“He's always there! Always on me! And he's not just annoying, he's CRAZY!”  
“He peed in the sink! What kind of animal pee in the sink?”  
After a good five minutes of uninterrupted shouting, Dana raised a calm steady hand.  
“Alright. You're arguing. Now, that felt like a real married couple. You're making progress.”

 


	5. He has a son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a lot of Ian being alone in the apartment.  
> Also, Mandy knows.  
> That's all.

 

Ian couldn't be alone in this place. Every time he had a little space, Mickey being gone God-knows-where, finally leaving his couch, someone came disrupting Ian's moment of peace. This time, he opened the door to a smiling Mandy.  
“Mickey ain't here.” he just said while making a move to close the door.  
“I know.” the woman answered.  
“Is he looking for a job or something? He's always out these days.”  
Ian didn't really know why he asked, he didn't care – really, he didn't. It just that it would be nice to not have to pay the rent on his own anymore.  
“I have no idea.” Mandy answered lightly. “But it's nice to see that you care.”  
“What are you doing here?” Ian asked, ready to close the door to her face – he did not care.  
“I came to see you. You know, have a drink with my brother-in-law.”  
Her smile grew bigger and she raised her right hand to show a pack of beer. Ian sighed and let her in the apartment.  
“I can't really drink.” he found himself obligated to admit.  
“I know.” Mandy said, raising her other hand. “This is why I also brought pop.”  
Oh. That was nice. How did she know?  
“Did Mickey tell you?”  
Mandy smirked while taking the drinks out of their package.  
“You'd be surprised how much he cares too. You'd actually be pretty good together, if you'd stop being such blind assholes all the time.”  
“Is this why you're here?”  
Because really, if Mandy was there to convince Ian he would be good with Mickey, she was loosing her time. Ian and Mickey actually being together? Never gonna happen. But the woman just shook her head and handed the redhead a bottle of Coke.  
“Nope. I genuinely want to know you.”

******

For some reason, Ian and Mandy hanging out became a regular thing. Mickey was out of the apartment more and more often, and sometimes Ian called his sister-in-law just to come watch TV or talk. They never mentioned Mickey in their conversations, because they actually had a few things in common and never ran out of stuff to talk about. Against all odds, the two were on the right path to become very good friends, and Ian was quite happy about it – Mickey was insufferable, but at least he had a cool sister.

******

It was a Saturday afternoon. Mickey was out... somewhere again, so Ian had the apartment all to himself. He wasn't having a giant party like some teenager left alone in a parentless house, or even dancing naked to weird 80s music, he was just chilling on the couch watching stupid TV shows on Mickey's huge flat screen, when the doorbell rang. Ian had ordered a pizza, but only seven minutes ago, the delivery guy couldn't have been so fast, and when he opened the door he wasn't met with a bored teenager wanting to save money for college, but with a woman in her late twenties and a small boy.  
“Who are you?” the woman asked with an accent Ian couldn't place.  
The redhead had learned his role by now.  
“I'm Mickey's husband.” he answered. “And you are...”  
The woman looked quickly at the boy, who seemed to be her son, before glaring back at Ian.  
“Mickey's married? And he did not tell me?”  
Once again: who the fuck was she?  
“I'm sorry but, who are you?” Ian asked with a bitter tone, he was more than ready to close the door to this woman's face to go back to his TV show.  
The woman sighed, liked it was obvious Ian should know, or maybe like it was obvious Mickey wouldn't have told him.  
“I'm Yevgeny's mother.”  
Ian shook his head slightly, showing that he still didn't understand. Was Yevgeny the boy?  
“Mickey's son.”  
Ian felt his mouth open on its own accord. What? Mickey had a son? What the actual fuck? The redhead must have stayed still and silent too long, mouth now hanging wide open, because the woman shoved passed him to enter the apartment.  
“Where is he?” she asked with a sigh.  
It took Ian a second to recompose himself.  
“Mickey? I don't know.”  
The woman shook her head violently, her eyes getting darker by the minute.  
“Piece of shit father...” she muttered under her breath. “Does not tell me he's married, and he's not even here on his day.”  
Ian was actually scared by this woman – who he had now decided was Russian, or Ukrainian, or something Eastern European – but he also kind of felt bad for the kid. Mandy had never mentioned she had a nephew – and Ian thought he was her friend – and even Mickey, the father, never talked about him! Ian knew that if he had a son he would talk about him all the time, being a proud daddy like he was already a proud older brother, so he did the only polite thing he could think of and offered the visitors something to drink. The woman seemed surprised but accepted a beer for herself, and juice for her son. They settled in an awkward silence for what felt like forever, until finally the apartment door flew open.

******

A string of Russian curses was the first thing Mickey heard when he opened his apartment door, not that it was actually something new, it had happened before, every time he forgot it was his turn to have Yevgeny. And this was one of those times. So he just waited calmly for Svetlana to turn back to English, removing his jacket and shoes in the meantime. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Ian leaning against the kitchen counter, looking very sheepish.  
“You are fucking stupid idiot! And you are married! To strange orange boy! Why you didn't tell me?”  
Mickey sighed. Secretly, he had hoped he could have kept his marriage and this whole charade a secret from Svetlana, but more especially from Yevy. He might have been a shitty father, but he didn't want to hurt his son by introducing someone the kid might like into his life, before withdrawing him way too soon, that was why he had only seen Yevgeny outside the apartment since Ian had moved in. But, of course, he had to forget once to pick him up for Svetlana to show up unannounced at his place, therefore meeting the annoying redhead.  
“Because it's none of your fucking business, that's why!” Mickey shot back at the mother.  
“You let him near my son, it is my business! I do not want strange men near my son!”  
“He's not a complete stranger, we've been married for a couple of weeks now, he's not dangerous for Yevgeny. Or at least I don't think so...”  
Ian could have been a child rapist for all Mickey knew, but it was time to pick a side and never, in a million years, he would choose Svetlana's, just for the sake of it.  
“You love him?”  
“Fuck no! What'd you ask me that?”  
“HE IS YOUR HUSBAND! You do not love husband? You Americans... I do not understand you!”  
The thing with Svetlana was that the angrier she got, the thicker her accent became. And then, she usually just started cursing and yelling in Russian again. That was Mickey's cue to start ignoring her again. So he went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, drank some of it, and kneeled in front of his son, all that with the distinct feeling of Ian's eyes never leaving him.  
“Hey buddy.” Mickey ruffled the boy's hair. “Wanna watch a movie and order a pizza tonight?”  
Yevgeny smiled and nodded. Svetlana yelled louder – some crap about healthy food. And Ian was still looking at his husband. Mickey stood up.  
“Okay Svet, I got it. I'm a shitty father. I forget when it's my turn to have him, I mostly feed him pizza and candy, we always stay up late watching movies, but I never, _never_ , endangered him, you know that. So if I say Ian is fine, it means he's fine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I got married, it kind of got me by surprise too, but now can we move on and keep going with our lives?”  
Mickey knew how to make his baby mama shut up: admitting he was a bad father, and throwing an apology on top of that, it happened so rarely she just had to believe him. And so she did. She stopped cursing, kissed her boy goodbye, and left the apartment – not without shooting one last death glare to Mickey accompanied by one last threat muttered only for Mickey to hear.  
“If something, anything happens, you'll never see your son again, ever. Understand?”

******

It was just weird. Mickey had not said a single word to Ian since he came back to the apartment and his baby mama left. Normally, Ian would have enjoyed the silence treatment. But right now, it wasn't that, it was Mickey in his little bubble with his son, Mickey being a father, an actual not-so-bad dad. Ian stayed back, letting the duo have their moment, but not loosing a piece of it. It was almost... cute.

The evening went calmly. The man and his son watching the last Pixar movie together, while Ian chilled in the kitchen, playing on his phone or just observing his husband. It could have been a good opportunity for some marriage ruining actions, but the redhead didn't feel like it. As much as he enjoyed making Mickey's life hell, he didn't want to hurt a child, Ian would never hurt a child. And for the first night since his impromptu wedding, he actually felt good in this apartment, in this weird relationship, he couldn't stay married with the Mickey who was there every other day, but he could with tonight's Mickey, with _daddy Mickey_.

When in doubt, Ian usually called Lip. But when he picked up his phone that night, the redhead saw himself pushing the green icon near Mandy's number. She picked up on the third ring, letting just enough time for Ian to go out on the balcony and closing the sliding glass door behind him.  
“Hey hot guy! What's up?”  
“Mickey has a son.”  
It was meant to be a question, a quest for confirmation, but it came out like an affirmation. On the other end of the line, the woman sighed.  
“Yeah...”  
“Why didn't you tell me?”  
“It wasn't my place to tell, Ian.”  
“Still, it would have been nice to know.”  
“Well it's not my fault if you two dumbasses don't communicate. Or if you married a guy you didn't know, like at all.”  
She wasn't wrong. Ian had married a guy he didn't know – not that _that_ was any news – but he also had never made any effort to actually get to know him. And it wasn't right to take it all on Mandy.  
“Sorry Mandy. I don't mean to be a jerk to you.”  
“Well it's nice to have a sort-of-brother apologizing for being an ass. Never happened before. And I have four real brothers.”  
Ian laughed and wished his friend a goodnight – not without throwing another _'sorry'_ in there – before hanging up and going back into the apartment.

It was near the end of the movie, and Mickey got up when he spotted Ian coming back in.  
“Hey man.”  
It was the first time he was addressing Ian of the entire night.  
“Is it cool if Yev sleep on the bed tonight? He usually does, with me. I just don't want to have him sleeping on the couch.”  
Ian genuinely smiled. He had grown to like Mickey's bed, but he couldn't refuse this demand, and would surely survive a night on the couch for the sake of a child.  
“Yeah, sure. I can take the couch for one night.”  
Mickey nodded as a thank you, and grabbed another beer from the fridge before going back to the movie.  
“Mick?”  
Mickey usually didn't like the nickname – not that Ian used it a lot – but this time he didn't react to it. He just turned back to Ian.  
“Yeah?”  
Ian hesitated for a second before asking the questions that had been haunting him for the past three hours. He figured Mickey couldn't actually kill him with his son in the same room if he disliked the interrogation, _right?_  
“Why haven't you told me you have a son?”  
The man just shrugged. Ian knew he wouldn't obtain much more of an answer for the night, but decided to push it further anyway.  
“Okay, so how do you have a son? I mean, you know...”  
If Mickey was calm before, now his face was just turning angry. Ian took a step back, hitting the kitchen counter.  
“No, I don't know.” Mickey scolded.  
Ian knew by the way Mickey's eyes shot daggers into him and his hand gripped his beer bottle tighter, that he should just shut up by now, but it was like he had no control over his brain, his words kept tumbling out of his mouth.  
“It just that... you're gay. How did it happen?”  
Mickey looked like he was about to take a step toward Ian – a very angry step – when Yevgeny's light laugh came from the couch. The father seemed to instantly relax and grumbled a quick “None of your business.” to Ian before going back to his son.

******

 _You're gay. How did it happen? How do you have a son?_ The redhead's voice kept repeating itself in Mickey's brain. Fuck this man and his fucking stupid questions.  
The bedroom was pitch black but Mickey's eyes were now used to the obscurity, and he could distinguish most of his surroundings. From times to times, he could hear a police or ambulance siren down in the street. He could also hear Yev's light snoring next to him. His child's regular breathing usually calmed Mickey down, but that night he just wanted to punch Ian in the face. Ian who had invaded his home, his privacy, and even his bed. The sheets smelt too nice, too clean, too Ian. And the worst part was probably that Mickey didn't mind that much – the clean sheets part, not the rest of this ginger's stupid face and annoying habits. The black haired man soon realized his hands were clenched into ready-to-punch fists. So he turned his head slowly to focus on his son's peaceful expression, and he felt his fingers relax by themselves.  
He would take care of Ian in the morning. Now he just needed to get some rest.

When both the man and his son woke up, Ian had already made breakfast for them all. He smiled kindly at Yevgeny, but kept shooting apprehensive glances toward Mickey. The red haired man was sheepish to say the least, and it caused him to act super nice and considerate. So Mickey decided to enjoy it while it lasted – for the well-being of his son, of course – and deal with his idiot of a roommate/husband later.

 


	6. Hide the knives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are shifting, and I loved writing this chapter.

 

Mickey never had a recurring image in head when he jerked off. Sometimes he thought about the last porn he had watched, sometimes about some random hot dude he had seen in the street or in a bar. But it was never a clear picture of a man – or when it did, it never happened more than once, and he never actually knew the guy. He never even thought about Jeff in those moments – and the guy was the most regular sex he had ever had. But lately, every time he started touching himself, he couldn't stop flashes of red hair or freckles, or green eyes to pop into his mind. He hated it. He fucking hating it.  
This time, he was in shower and the only thing he managed to do was punching the tile wall with way too much strength.  
“SHIT!!!”  
It hurt.  
When he came out of the bathroom, fresh clothes on and wet hair all over the place, Ian was pouring himself a glass of his _'smoothie of the day'_.  
“Hey.” the redhead greeted with a smile. “Do you want so-”  
“Fuck off!” Mickey shouted before crashing down on the couch.  
The end of this shit show of a marriage couldn't come soon enough.

******

Since what Ian had decided to refer to as _'the Yevgeny incident'_ , Mickey was giving him the silence treatment – when he wasn't telling him to “fuck off!”. Ian almost missed the Mickey who melted his spatula or who peed in the sink, at least back then he felt like he was existing. Now, it was like he wasn't even on Mickey's radar. It might seem dumb, but Ian had enough experience as the quiet middle child everybody forgot about to need to be at least recognize – even if it was just to be yelled at. Plus, he felt like Mickey's rage kept on building, and he really, really, didn't want to be on the receiving end when the cork of the bottle would explode.

******

Mickey was sipping his third beer when somebody knocked on the door. He was alone in the apartment and he fully intended on staying that way for at least two more hours, but the fucker seemed persistant. So Mickey stood up reluctantly and opened the door.  
“What are you doing here Jeff?”  
The man just smirked.  
“Well it's been a long time since we last... 'hang out', so I thought I'd come check you weren't dead. Now that I know you're alive and well, what'd you think about less talking more fucking?”  
Mickey shook his head.  
“Can't.”  
“Why? Somebody cut your dick off?”  
Mickey didn't laugh. He didn't feel like laughing. He felt like chocking Ian with his bare hands. Here he was, refusing sex to a man who was good at it because he didn't want to loose 1.5 millions dollars, and it wasn't even the worst part! The worst part was that after weeks of celibacy, Mickey wasn't even horny – not for Jeff at least. He looked at his fuck buddy, the nice Jeff who never asked for more than sex and was now waiting for a good answer on Mickey's part. But Mickey just sighed, before opening the door wider.  
“We can't fuck. But you came all this way so I can at least offer you a beer.”  
Jeff nodded, looking very confused.  
“Okay. Thanks. But again: why can't we fuck? What happened to Mickey horny Milkovich who never refuse good free sex with no strings attached?”  
Mickey hinted a smile this time. After all, why couldn't he say the truth to Jeff? The guy was his friend, to some extent, and, more important, he would understand the difficult position Mickey was in.  
“I got married.” he blurted out after offering the guy a bottle of beer.  
Jeff almost chocked on his drink.  
“What?”  
“Stupid drunken mistake in Vegas.” Mickey explained. “But we somehow won a fuck ton of money, and I can't get out of this shit show until like five months if I want my share of the money.”  
“How much money are we talking about?”  
“1.5 million. Each.”  
“Shit.”  
“Yeah. So no fucking around – no fucking at all actually – and I have to live with this fuckhead.”  
“For the next five months?”  
“More or less one week, yeah.”  
Jeff nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the floor and his lips glued to his bottle. He seemed to be thinking it over.  
“Okay.” he finally said while raising his gaze back to Mickey. “Sounds like the kind of shit I could get myself into, so no judging. And if you need help for anything, like messing with the guy or something, just give me a call. Wait, it's a guy right?”  
“Yeah it's a guy, I'm not that stupid. And thanks, but right now I just want to shoot some bad guys. You in?”  
Jeff accepted and grabbed the controller Mickey was handing him, before crashing on the couch next to him.

About two hours and seven games later, the two men were still competing against each other on the screen when Ian came back from work. He politely greeted Jeff and went straight for the bedroom. Jeff paused the game they were in the middle of and punched Mickey in the shoulder to get his attention.  
“Dude! That's your husband? He's fucking hot! What's wrong with you?”  
Mickey shook his head and started the game again. He never thought of Ian as hot – except maybe that time he met him in the club in Vegas – for him he was just a nuisance, some sort of pest he had to get rid of to win his life back. Was Ian really that hot? He did have a nicely shaped body thanks to all his healthy food and exercise, his eyes were quite mesmerizing to look at, and Mickey always had a thing for redheads. Mickey mentally slapped himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? Ian was not hot, not sexy, not fuckable. Ian was an annoying asshole, and he would not be gone soon enough.

******

Dana Twitchell was getting used to meet with Ian and Mickey every week. The first time, they tried to act like they were happily in love. The second and third time, they argued during the entire hour. But the fourth time, they didn't talk at all, and they tried to avoid looking at each other.  
“What happened?” the counselor asked.  
She waited for a few seconds, before Ian decided to give an answer.  
“Mickey has a son he never told me about. I tried to act interested and asked questions about the kid's story, but I guessed I was indelicate, and I brought the silence treatment onto myself.”  
Dana could easily hear the irony in Ian's tone, but she could also sense that the man had a tendency to blame himself way too quickly.  
“Well it is a good thing, as a husband, to be interested in your spouse's child.” she declared. “Now, it may also be conceivable that some stories are harder to tell. Mickey?”  
The man looked up when being called, but did not open his mouth.  
“I am right to assume there is a reason you don't want to share that particular piece of information with your husband?” Dana continued.  
She didn't get any answer. She took a few notes, just for the sake of it, before suggesting what she had been thinking about since the beginning of the hour.  
“I feel like, maybe, it would be a good idea to schedule individual meetings. That way, some things could be share more easily with me, and we could discuss whether or not you want to talk about it with your partner. I know that this is marriage counseling, but working on a marriage also mean working on yourself.”  
That earned her a smile from Ian, who nodded before giving his answer.  
“It's a good idea, but I am already seeing someone regularly as part of my treatment. I don't think I need to double my psy hours.”  
Yes, right, Ian had mentioned his disorder to Dana.  
“Do you sometimes talk about Mickey and your marriage with your doctor?” she asked.  
Ian hesitated and Dana witnessed Mickey looking at him expectantly.  
“I try to talk about all aspects of my life.” Ian finally admitted. “And, even if I don't especially like it, Mickey is a part of it.”  
Dana nodded. Perfect, that all she wanted. Now Mickey. She turned her eyes toward him, and the man met her gaze. He scoffed.  
“No thanks. I don't need a fucking shrink.”  
And that was all the counselor heard him say that day.

******

Mickey had been acting weird since they had come back from the meeting with their marriage counselor. He was still blatantly ignoring Ian, but the redhead felt like there was something more to it. Mickey seemed almost... careful around his husband now. Ian suspected it had something to do with what he had said to Dana, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Although his concerns were cut short not long after dinner. Ian was quietly washing the dishes when Mickey came standing next to him.  
“Are you okay?” he asked.  
Okay, that was suspicious, to say the least. Ian nodded slowly, not sure where this conversation was going.  
“Yeah, I'm fine. Why?”  
Mickey hesitated for a second, biting his lower lip.  
“I mean you're not gonna go all suicidal on me, right?”  
“What are you talking about?”  
Mickey huffed an exasperated breath.  
“I googled shit and they said that people with... well, you know... suicide is a risk.”  
Was Mickey talking about Ian's bipolar disorder? And was he actually being worried? It looked like he was, with his lower lip still under his teeth and his big blue eyes looking apprehensively at Ian. The redhead felt a rush of affection toward his husband and suddenly wanted nothing more than to hug him to reassure him.  
“I'm good.” he quickly answered. “I was afraid I messed up my meds in Vegas, but I saw my doctor right when I came home, so everything is fine now.”  
Mickey nodded his approval and began to look away.  
“You worry about me?” Ian couldn't stop himself to add. “I thought you didn't care.”  
“I don't.” Mickey stated sharply.  
“Okay, if you say so.”  
Mickey shrugged.  
“I just don't want to get rid of my good knives.” he said before going back to his couch.  
Ian didn't stop his lips from forming a little smile. Not only Mickey had finally talked to him, but he actually cared about Ian's well-being. Maybe it was a little victory. But over what battle exactly?

******

The call came right before Ian left for work two days later. A certain Jack Fuller who wanted him to remind Mickey that his wife and him would still be very happy to have Mickey for dinner the next day, and he also invited Ian in the process.

“Who'd you tell him you were?” was the first thing Mickey asked when Ian passed the message.  
“Your roommate.”  
It was actually true. For some reason, Ian hadn't fell like confessing his husband status. And by the look on Mickey's face, he had done well.  
“Okay. Thanks. You can come to dinner if you want, but please don't tell him.”  
Mickey's pleading tone was more than enough for Ian to accept, but he didn't want for Mickey to know it was that easy.  
“I won't tell him, at one condition: you actually doing your chores. No more dirty dishes in the sink when it's your turn, no more dirty clothes scattered all around the apartment. And you clean the bathroom and vacuum when you're supposed too. Do all that and I won't talk. We have a deal?”  
Mickey hesitated for a second before handing his hand for Ian to shake.  
“Deal.”

******

Mickey had always enjoy spending time with Jack and his wife. When he used to work for him, he was invited at dinner at least one a month, but he didn't think the invitation would still be in order since he got fired. And he was actually nervous to go, like a child who knew he was about to disappoint his father. And Ian's constant nagging wasn't helping.  
“So he's your ex-boss? The one who fired you?”  
“Yep.”  
“What's your job exactly?”  
“Carpenter.”  
“Oh cool. You like, made furniture?”  
“Yep. See the bar in the living room? My work.”  
“Oh wow. That's great. You can actually create stuff.”  
“Yep.”  
“And so your boss, ex-boss, why is he inviting you?”  
“Cause he likes me. Tells me I'm like a son to him.”  
“And is he like a father to you?”  
“I guess.”  
“What about your real father?”  
“He's dead, or in the can. Don't know, don't care. All the same to me.”  
“Why?”  
“Do I look like I want to talk about it?”  
“Okay. … And what about your job? Are you trying to find a new one?”  
“Just shut up please.”

******

Dinner went smoothly. Ian acted like a friend of Mickey's, and never hinted once that they could have a slightly different status – the black haired man was thankful for that. Deirdre was her usual nice self and had cooked a mean _blanquette_. And Jack  was... well Jack. Rude and harsh, but with a very kind heart. Mandy once said while hearing Mickey's description of the man that he was his future self. Mickey couldn't really disagree, and he didn't actually mind becoming like this man he admired.  
“So Mickey, did you find another job yet?”  
“No, sir, not yet.”  
“Can't say I'm surprised.”  
“I think Mickey could sell his furniture.” Ian interfered. “We have a bar he made, in the apartment, it's great. I'm sure it would sell well.”  
“I don't know.” Jack replied. “That would require Mickey actually finishing something first.”  
Ian seemed ready to defend Mickey with teeth and nails, and the man was weirdly grateful, but he didn't need someone else to fight his battles for him.  
“I found a place.” he heard himself say. His voice was too weak to his own ears, so he did his best to speak up despite the ball growing in his throat. “A warehouse I'm renting by the week. I started working on some pieces, and I know people who could be interested in buying them.”  
Mickey raised his eyes to meet Jack's approving look. The man seemed happy enough, and it gave Mickey some confidence. But what really took him to the guts was Ian's pride plastered across his face, from his wide grin to his gleaming eyes, it was the first time someone was proud of Mickey, and it was a damn good feeling, not matter who it was coming from.

 


	7. Thanksgiving

 

November 21st. It was Ian and Mason's anniversary. Or at least it used to be. The anniversary of their first date to be exact. The redhead turned his phone in his hand one more time. Should he call him, or at least text? Four years. He had met Mason four years ago. Ian had been stable on his meds for only one year when the man entered his life. And it was good. It was stable. It was all he needed, all he wanted. At the time. Maybe now Ian realized this relationship had missed passion, and excitement. And in a way, Ian was glad it was over, so that now he could focus all of his 'love energy' into finding someone better, someone he would actually truly love for the rest of his life. Maybe it was cliché, or girly, but Ian Gallagher believed in true love, and soulmates, and all that shit. And clearly, Mason wasn't it. But still, four years. It's a long fucking time when you're still in your early twenties.  
Before Ian could make a decision about contacting his ex-fiancé, his phone began to ring in his hand. He quickly picked up when he saw who was calling. There once had been a time when he was dodging Fiona's calls on purpose, but he had since learned from his mistakes.  
“Hey Fi! What's up?”  
“Hey Pumpkin!”  
“Don't you think I'm too old now for this nickname?”  
“Not for me Pumpkin, not for me.”  
Ian laughed. Fiona. His big sister, his guardian, his mother. Sometimes he hated her, he resented her, but mostly these days he just loved her.  
“So, listen, about Thanksgiving...”  
“I'm bringing a pecan pie, as usual. Don't worry, I didn't forget about it.”  
Ian heard his sister smile before she sighed. She clearly had something to tell him and didn't know how to do it.  
“I talked with Lip, just before you.” she began. “He mentioned something and I just... Well, let's just say it: are you and Mason back together?”  
Ian started to imagine what Lip could have let slip out. It was his turn to sigh.  
“No, we're not. Why? What did Lip say?”  
“He suggested you won't be alone for the holidays, and that you might be bringing... a husband?”  
Lip was really a shithead sometimes.  
“Everybody knows I can't judge you on that, I mean, I'm the queen of shitty boyfriends and shotgun weddings, but I wish you had told me Ian. When did we become this family who doesn't talk to each other anymore?”  
“Do you really want me to answer this question?” Ian replied with a bitter edge to his voice.  
He was mad at Lip for talking to Fiona about Mickey, but at the same time he knew secrets never last very long where he came from. But somehow, he still hoped that Lip hadn't told the whole truth. This marriage would be a scam good enough to make Frank proud, but Ian didn't want to be that Gallagher anymore.  
“So, what did Lip tell you exactly?”  
“That you're married to a guy. Nothing more. I don't even know his name. How long have you been dating? Is this why you broke up with Mason?”  
Ian smiled. Things weren't that shitty after all.  
“Look Fi, I gotta go, we'll talk on Thanksgiving.”  
“Okay. Bring... him!”  
“Mickey.”  
“Oh, I like it.”  
“Yeah, okay. I'll bring him, I promise.”  
The first thing Ian did after hanging up was shooting a text to Lip to order him to keep his fucking mouth shut.

******

Mickey was making himself grilled cheese sandwiches in the kitchen, the sound of the shower running behind him, when a phone vibrated a couple of times on the counter. It was Ian's. Fucker was using all the hot water again. And Mickey knew he shouldn't read the text, but every new way of annoying his husband was good to take. So he quickly slided open the device – his fault really for not having a password – and took a look at the message.

 **From Mason:** _Happy Anniversary._ _I probably shouldn't, but I miss you, and I thought we should talk. So if you don't hate me too much, meet me at RL_ _Thursday_ _at_ _12_ _.30._

******

“Why do I have to come again?”  
“Because my sister invited you. And I don't want her to know the truth.”  
“And what if I don't care?”  
“I didn't tell the truth to your ex-boss, so you could be a decent person and return the favor.”  
“Okay. But I have a condition too.”  
“Alright. Which one?”  
“I don't want you here every time I have Yevgeny in the apartment. And you don't ask questions about him anymore.”  
“But I like him. He's cute.”  
“Your call.”  
“Okay. Just don't tell Fiona. Or any of my siblings.”  
“You got yourself a deal Gallagher.”  
“Great. Let's go now!”  
“I have something to do first. I'll meet you there. … Oh don't get your panties in a twist, I said I'll be there!”

******

The RL restaurant was a very fancy place. Probably the fanciest place Mickey had ever set foot on, and wearing only his best pair of jeans and a black dress shirt – which was fancy enough for the Gallagher Thanksgiving party – he felt more than underdressed. Mason was pretty easy to spot. He was the only solitary plain guy with a tux jacket on in a sea of plain guys with tux jackets on.  
“Mason, right?”  
The man raised his eyes from his phone, looking Mickey up and down, probably judging him according to the way he stopped a second too long on Mickey's knuckles tattoos.  
“Yes. Who's asking?”  
“Since you just saw me speaking, I'm gonna take a wide stab it was me.”  
Seriously, this guy was so annoying and boring looking. How did Ian ever go out with him?  
“And who are you?”  
“A friend of Ian's.”  
“Oh.”  
The guy looked almost disappointed.  
“So I guess he won't come then?”  
“Good guess Sherlock.”  
Mickey wasn't entirely sure why he had come here. Maybe he just wanted to see by himself who the fucker was. Or maybe he wanted to hurt Ian by doing something stupid. Or maybe, just maybe, he was driven by a little bit of jealousy.  
“He's good you know. He told me what an impressive guy you are.”  
“Oh yeah.” the fucker actually agreed!  
Anyway. Mickey continued.  
“He told me he tried to be so perfect, but deep down he never really felt he was good enough to be with you.”  
Mason smirked. Asshole.  
“But his insecurities are long gone now. He's really coming around. He's a fighter. He's not gonna be in the open market for long, I'm telling you. Anyway... I gotta get going. There's a big Gallagher party tonight at their house.”  
The guy looked confused.  
“Well okay. Thank you for telling me.”  
Mickey smiled.  
“Sure. No problem dude.”  
And he walked away.

******

When Ian arrived at the house, he was overwhelmed by a wave of kids, screaming, and expressions of happiness. Kev and V were there, with their 7-year-old twin girls, Amy and Gemma, as well as Carl and his long-time girlfriend Bonnie, and Lip – single for once – and Debbie and her 4-year-old daughter Rose, and Fiona and her husband Sean, his son Will and their daughter Leah, and Liam of course. All those people were a little too much for Ian all at once. He thought for a second about running away, but he felt Mandy touch lightly his arm and it made him relax. He had brought his friend along for moral support, because he knew he wouldn't get any from Mickey, and he was still kind of mad at Lip at the moment.

Fiona was the last one to hug her brother, having been busy in the kitchen when he arrived. She hold him tight for a second too long, before noticing Mandy, still glued to Ian's side.  
“Hi, I'm Fiona. Nice to meet you.”  
“Mandy. The sister-in-law slash BFF.”  
“Oh that's nice.”  
Both women smiled to each other.  
“So, where's the lucky man who tied down my little brother?”  
“He had an errand to run. He's coming by later.”  
To be honest, Ian had absolutely no idea where Mickey was, but he really hoped he would actually show up. Although it be a would excuse for the divorce in not too long – the husband not showing up at the first family reunion after their wedding, shitty partner – Ian still wanted him to come. He didn't really know why – or didn't want to know why – but maybe it meant something to him that Mickey would come to Thanksgiving with his family.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait for long: Mickey showed up about half an hour later with flowers for Fiona and a pack of beers to share. Ian couldn't help but smile at the odd combination because it was the perfect representation of the Mickey he started to know: tough around the edges due to his South side upbringing, but with a very sweet heart deep down. As Ian sat at the kitchen counter, looking at his husband making conversation with his family, he felt Lip slide in the stool next to his.  
“Stop smiling like an idiot.”  
Ian caught himself and stopped immediately.  
“I'm not.”  
“Yes you are. Smiling and sweetly looking at your husband. Either you take your part very seriously, or you are falling for him. So, which is it?”  
“I'm not falling for him.”  
“Oh really?”  
“Fuck off Lip.”  
The redhead stood up to join the gathering of people in the living room, this time plastering a fake smile on his face because maybe Lip's words had gotten to him more than he had expected.

******

Dinner was good. It had been a while since Mickey had celebrated Thanksgiving with a real family. Oh wait... It never happened before. The Milkoviches weren't that great on family holidays, and even since they left the house, Mickey and Mandy never started this kind of tradition. Plus, Svetlana always insisted on having Yevgeny for this week-end – not that Mickey actually minded, this way he could see his son more at Christmas. But the Gallaghers... They went full on good old traditional American holidays, with the turkey, and the pie, and the shitty booze – because let's face it: it was still the South Side after all – and Mickey kinda loved it.

After having eaten so much he thought he was going to explode, he crashed on the couch between Mandy and the armrest. His sister was in deep conversation with Ian and the other red haired one – Debrah? Bettie? something like that. Mickey wasn't sure he really liked his sister being so friendly with his fake husband, at this rhythm, she would side with the ginger fucker if Mickey went too far in being a jerk to him – like, say, if he went to see his ex for example. He didn't know anymore if talking to Mason had been such a good idea. Maybe he just had dug his own grave...  
“Ian!” the black kid (fuck! why was Mickey so bad with names?) shouted when he jumped on the couch, half lying on top of Mickey and Mandy to access his brother. “Can't you be my coach again?”  
“Coach?” Mandy asked.  
“Yeah. I used to coach Little League.” Ian answered. “I don't know buddy.” he added for his brother. “I don't really have time these days...”  
“I didn't know you coached Little League.” Mickey admitted.  
“Well, there are a lot of things you don't know about me.” Ian replied with a smirk.  
Smug fucker.

“Ian used to wear this fedora hat and a leather jacket to school everyday for six months.” Fiona explained to a laughing Mandy and a smiling Mickey.  
“Who wouldn't want to be Indiana Jones?” Ian cried out, looking offended.  
“I agree.” Mickey came to the rescue. “I mean _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ may be the greatest movie ever made! With all the Seagal movies, obvisously.”  
“Thank you!” Ian yelled happily. “But Seagal, seriously? Van Damme is way better man!”  
“You are out of your mind! Have you seen that fucking ponytail?! That's a powerful ponytail man. Seagal could totally kick Van Damme's ass!”  
“Unless. Unless, it's Double Impact Van Damme! Cause that's some Van Double Damn!”  
Both men laughed at the bad pun, not noticing the affectionate way the entire family was looking at them, except for Lip and Mandy who – being the only ones knowing the truth – exchanged a look of confusion and concern.

******

Things were going well. Way too well. Ian was actually enjoying himself around Mickey and was discovering a whole new facet of the man, a facet he really liked, maybe even more than _Daddy Mickey_. But growing up in the Gallagher household, you knew that when something was going well it never lasted. And indeed, around 7pm, somebody rang the door bell. Carl went to see who it was, and when he came back with the new guest, the entire room went silent. Ian stood up.  
“Mason? What are you doing here?”

 


	8. The retreat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've outlined my work better and now we officially have 13 chapters for this fic (so only 5 more left). Let's see if I can stick to that.

 

Ian grabbed his ex-fiancé by the arm in order to drag him outside as quickly as he could.  
“What are you doing here?” he asked again once they were down the stairs in front of the house.  
He wanted to be angry at the guy for dumping him in presence of all their friends, and then showing up unexpected at his family party, but he couldn't help to feel somehow happy, and confused.  
“I was just visiting some friends.” Mason answered. “And I thought I stopped by. I always liked the big Gallagher family reunions.”  
What the fuck was up with that guy?!  
“You have friends in the South Side now? And you never liked my family.”  
“That's not true. They're... nice.”  
Ian nodded. Yeah right.  
“Hey, do you want to go grab a glass of vino?” Mason added before Ian could say anything else.  
Was he actually asking him out? Ian thought about it for a second. It was weirdly tempting but...  
“No, sorry. I can't right now.”  
“Okay, alright. Well... maybe next week?”  
“I have my retreat. You know, work thing.”  
“Yes, right. Sorry.”  
Both men nodded and smiled awkwardly at each other for a little while, before Mason broke the silence.  
“You seem... fine. I mean you look great.”  
Ian genuinely smiled this time.  
“Thanks.”  
“Yeah...”  
“Sorry but I gotta go.” the redhead declared while making a vague gesture toward the door.  
“Yeah, me too. Well maybe some other time.”  
“Okay.”  
Mason took a few steps toward the street, before he turned back for a second.  
“Good seeing you.”  
“You too.”  
And it really was, as odd as it seemed.

******

Mandy hadn't really noticed Lip in Vegas – she was more focused on her brother marrying a dude he barely knew – but now that she had spent an afternoon with him she could honestly say that he was purely and utterly annoying. She always made fun of Mickey when he complained non-stop about his annoying husband, but now that she was in front of Lip, she could understand exactly what her brother felt and meant.  
That being said, she couldn't help but agree with the oldest Gallagher son when he declared that Mason was an asshole. The guy had just crashed the family reunion of his ex-fiancé – fiancé who he previously had dumped in front of all their friends during a party said fiancé had organized to celebrate his birthday. What a dick. Mandy wanted to punch him in the face, and probably in other more sensitive areas too, but Ian took him outside before she could. And when the redhead came back inside the house, Mason was gone. Mandy noticed that Ian was suddenly very quiet. The party went on like nothing happened, but her friend didn't participate as much. And Mickey, already pretty silent before, just backed out in a corner and sipped his beer while stealing weird glances at his husband more often than not. Mandy made a mental note to talk to both of them – preferably separately – to understand what was going on.

******

Mickey was walking around in the cold, holding his son's little hand. The kid was high on sugar and Mickey thought a walk outside in the streets of windy Chicago in the beginning of December was his best bet at calming him down. Maybe Svetlana wasn't so wrong with all her healthy food crap, maybe a child shouldn't eat that much candy in one day.  
“Do you love Ian, daddy?” Yevgeny's voice suddenly asked from under several layers of clothing.  
Mickey stopped dead in his tracks, before he remembered to keep walking. This was unexpected.  
“Why are you asking me that kid?”  
“Mama says you're married, and when you're married you love them, and you want to make lots of babies with them. So do you love Ian and wants to make lots of babies with him?”  
Mickey held a laugh. His child was kinda cute.  
“You know, Yevy, to make babies we need a man and a woman. And Ian is a man, like your daddy.”  
“So do you love him even if you can't make babies with him?”  
Mickey didn't know how to answer to that question. He didn't want to blurt out a firm 'no' that would teach Yev that it's okay to be married to someone you don't love – Mickey wasn't a romantic, but he didn't want his child to grow up with messed up views on love and marriage, like he did – but he also didn't want to say 'yes' and therefore lie to his son. So he chose the best possible answer he could come up with on the spot.  
“I don't know... Do you like Ian?”  
“He's nice. And his pancakes are good, better than yours, daddy!”  
“Ouch kiddo, that hurt!”

******

The files were piling up on Ian's desk when he came back at work on Monday morning. The whole office was fidgeting with the idea of going away all together for a week-end long company retreat starting next Thursday, but before that they had a few deadlines to meet. And Michelle seemed to have less work to do than Ian, she had probably ditched her Thanksgiving week-end to take an advance on the redhead. He was only getting started when he heard his boss call him.  
“Hey Gallagher! How come you are behind Chong?”  
“Oh. I...”  
“Did you have fun this week-end? Oh, I remember when I didn't care about my career either.”  
Sometimes, Ian's boss could be a real asshole.  
“I'm sorry. I had this thing with my family and my husband and his sister.”  
“Your husband?”  
Shit. Shit shit. It had slipped out so quickly.  
“You got married? Thanks for the invite.”  
Oh thank god, he seemed more upset about that than about Ian being with a man. He never actually hid his sexuality, but he had never claimed it out loud either.  
“Yeah, no, I'm married. I didn't tell you that?”  
“No, you didn't Gallagher. Listen, you've been here for some time now, and the thing I value most with my employees is honesty. So I'm gonna be honest with you: this big promotion everyone talks about? It's real. And right now you and Chong are tie. But Chong is bringing her husband to the retreat, and I think you should bring yours too.”  
“He will be there.”

******

“No?”  
“No. I have a lot of stuff to do this week-end, and while the idea of hanging out with you and playing house in front of all your boring coworkers sounds not fun at all, I'm gonna have to pass.”  
Ian sighed while watching Mickey going back to his drawings. At the beginning he had been happy that his husband had decided to really get on with his own carpenter business, but now it was just annoying the redhead.  
“Look Mickey, this is really important for my promotion.”  
“I thought you didn't care about that. What did you say? _I don't care what my job is, as long as I can buy food and pay rent._ So, here we go.”  
True, Ian did say that at some point. But, first, he didn't think Mickey was actually listening and even less that he would remember. And second, things had changed somehow. Now that Ian didn't have a relationship to focus on anymore, he felt like it could be a good idea to emotionally grow into another department – that said his job.  
“My boss said that he wanted to meet my husband, so I promised him you would be there.”  
“Well you should've asked me first.” Mickey answered without even raising his eyes from his piece of paper.  
“I need this, Mickey. Please?”  
“I need a lot of things, Ian. But this is not one of them.”  
Fuck. Fuck this guy, and fuck this stupid marriage.

******

Mickey had the whole apartment to himself for the next four days. Fuck yes. Back to normal for a little while. He didn't have to care about it being clean, he could sleep in his bed again, and work peacefully at his furniture business. At the beginning, he was really happy. But not even an hour after Ian left, and Mickey was already missing company. Fuck, this ginger giant had fucked him up. So he called Jeff, figuring a video game marathon couldn't hurt.  
“So let me get this straight,” his friend repeated over the phone. “He asked you to come to a retreat for his job, for something important, and you said no?”  
“Yep.”  
“What are you still doing here? Are you a fucking moron?”  
“What?”  
“Just... I've got to do something. I'll call you back.”  
What was Jeff on? Seriously? But Mickey just shrugged, and waited. About half an hour later, he received a text from Jeff asking him to check his e-mails, before the guy called him again.  
“I sent you a legal document relinquishing all the rights to the money. You've got to get your ass down there, pretend to be the perfect husband, charm them all. And then, when you have them eating out of the palm of your hand, you make him sign this. And you tell him that if he doesn't sign it, you're gonna out him in front of everybody. Well _out him_... You know what I mean.”  
“I don't know if it's a good idea.” Mickey admitted.  
“Look Mick, you've been living together for a while now. Do you have any other master plan to win this thing?”  
“Not really, no.”  
“Okay so hang this stupid phone and go!”  
Mickey sighed, but he then printed the document, packed his bag, and left his cosy empty apartment.

******

A packed ball room with piano music in the background, a fancy buffet, and tons of people Ian didn't really want to talk to, this retreat was going to be hell. He grabbed a plate and filled it with random food, before starting to wander around the room, looking for a decent place to sit.  
“Hey Gallagher!”  
“Mr Banger.”  
His boss was showing him to his table, where he was already surrounded by Chong and her husband. Ian sat without arguing.  
“So, where's this husband of yours? I just met Chong's husband. He's a very smart guy. Dull but smart.”  
“He's... um...”  
Ian didn't have any good answer to that question. Fuck Mickey, if Ian lost his job over this, the guy would pay! But, fortunately, it didn't come to this, as Ian and his boss both turned around when they heard loud laughs coming from the buffet. Mickey was there, surrounded by a small crowd of Ian's coworkers laughing at what the black haired man was saying. Was Mickey actually joking? Ian had never seen him do that.  
“He's... there.” the redhead informed his boss. “I'll go get him.”  
“Hey!” Mickey greeted with a smile when Ian joined him.  
“Hey, um...”  
Ian didn't have time to add anything before Mickey pecked a quick kiss on his lips. It was surprising, unexpected, but quite nice.  
“Oh. Okay... I'm glad to see you.” Ian managed to say.  
“Babe, I was looking everywhere for you!” his husband blurted out way too happily.  
What? What was Mickey on?  
“Let me introduce you to my new friends.” he added. “This is David Young, your CFO...”  
Ian shook the guy's hand.  
“Mr Young. An honor.”  
“And this is the rest of the board. Great people.”  
Ian smiled at these people he only knew from seeing them from times to times in the elevator. Mickey being a charming social butterfly? What the actual fuck??? It was the moment Mr Banger, Ian's boss, chose to introduce himself.  
“So you're the lucky guy?”  
“Hi. Mickey Milkovich. Nice to meet you.”  
“Richard Banger. Come sit at our table.”  
The couple followed the man back to the table.  
“Your name is Richard Banger?” Mickey asked when they had all sat down. “Your name is Dick Banger?”  
Oh no. Ian discretely squeezed his husband's shoulder. Please Mickey shut the fuck up. Like right now.  
“Dick Banger? You sir had just provided us with jokes for the whole week-end!”  
Ian ran a desperate hand across his face. The entire table went silent. Mr Banger looked at Mickey for the longest minute ever. Fuck. Fuuuuck. But finally Banger laughed and clapped Mickey in the back.  
“Gallagher, where have you been hiding this guy?”  
“I just... I was keeping him all to myself.”  
Everybody laughed and the guests went back to casual conversation. When Banger turned to talk to Chong and her husband, Ian leaned toward Mickey.  
“I don't what made you change your mind, and I don't need to know, but thank you.”  
Mickey smiled.  
“No problem Red.”

 


	9. I had a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the longest so far, and I think you'll enjoy the ending. ;)

 

Everything was going according to plan. Mickey was nice and charming, he was making jokes, he participated to all the activities and smiled through them even though deep down he knew they couldn't have been more lame or boring, and people quickly got over their first impressions of him – mostly due to the tattoos on his hand – to come back talking with him. And, most of all, Ian was dumbstruck and was gaping more often than not. Mickey was kicking it.

On the last night, Saturday, the ball room had been transformed into a fake casino for a Las Vegas theme party. It was ironic, really, but why not? Mickey had made an extra effort and decided to wear a black tux. He was sipping a glass of disgusting fancy wine at the bar, waiting for his 'dear husband' when his phone rang. Jeff.  
“So, did he sign it yet?”  
“No, not yet.”  
“Don't pussy out man!”  
“Hey, calm your tits. These people, his coworkers, they love me. I'm just waiting for him to get down here.”  
“Alright. Call me when it's done, okay?”  
“Okay.”  
Mickey hung up. Jeff was getting annoying with this thing. Sure, he was the one who came up with the idea, but he was better not expecting a cut of the money, because that was just not gonna happen.  
“Hey.” said the voice that disrupted Mickey from his thoughts.  
He turned around to face his husband, also wearing a tux. Holy fuck, he was hot. Mickey mentally shook himself before he started staring. It was not the moment.  
“I guess I was wrong.” Ian declared. “You do clean up pretty well.”  
“You hitting on me Gallagher?”  
“I wouldn't dare.”  
Both men smirked and studied each other – or should I say devour each other with their eyes.  
“Gallagher. Milkovich. How you doing?” Banger interrupted them – with a perfect timing Mickey would add.  
Mickey ordered three shots from the bartender and handed them.  
“Cheers.”  
Banger and Mickey swallowed the alcohol quickly, but Mickey saw Ian hesitate from the corner of his eyes, so he took the opportunity of Banger taking a glass of wine from the bar to grab Ian's glass and drink the alcohol himself before giving the glass back to his husband. Okay, that was it. No more alcohol for the night. He couldn't get shitfaced if he wanted to stay focus on his plan.  
“Hello, my name is Ian's bitch.” Banger read from Mickey's name tag.  
Oh yeah, right, he did write this as a joke before forgetting to change it. Ian took the tag off with a smile to his boss and went to put it on Michelle's back while pretending to greet her. When he came back, both Mickey and Banger were laughing.  
“It's a good one Gallagher. I had no idea you were so much fun.” Banger said, before adding for Mickey's benefit: “He's very serious at work.”  
“Well you don't know him like I do.” the black haired man answered. “This one is a wild cat. I wouldn't lie to you Big D.”  
“You know, if I'd seen this side of you before, I would probably have promoted you a long time ago.” Banger confessed before going to greet someone else.  
Ian smiled, making Mickey smile in the process. So he was happy his husband was happy now? What the fuck?

******

A Vegas night and Mickey looking so sharp? Oh this was not going to end well, if the last Vegas night was anything to go by. Thankfully, this time, Ian didn't drink an ounce of alcohol, Mickey making sure of that, even if he had to drink himself all the alcohol Ian was given and couldn't refuse.

About an hour in, Mickey dragged Ian to the craps table.  
“Hard eight?” the black haired man asked while grabbing the two dices.  
“What?”  
Mickey sighed.  
“Hard eight? In Vegas? You don't remember?”  
Ian searched his brains for a few seconds. Yeah, maybe he had a blurry memory of some dice game, but not much... So he shook his head, waiting for an explanation from his husband.  
“Were you really that wasted?”  
“Do I need to remind you how the night ended? Yeah, I believe I was really drunk.”  
Mickey laughed.  
“Fuck. I was still standing then, it's after that the alcohol took control of my actions. So yeah, you rolled a hard eight and won us enough money to enjoy a nice steak dinner in a fancy restaurant. Best steak I ever had by the way.”  
“And I don't remember that? Shit!”  
It was really frustrating, honestly. But Mickey just laughed it off and brought Ian back to the dices.  
“Hard eight.” the redhead nodded.  
Mickey handed him the dices but Ian shook his head.  
“No, you do it. You've got this.”  
Mickey smiled, looked at Ian one more time with some hesitation, and finally threw the dices. A beat. The first dice showed a four. A beat. The second dice showed another four.  
“Fuck yes!”  
Mickey grabbed Ian's face and planted a hard kiss on his lips, before collecting their winnings on the table. Ian stayed stuck for a second, slowly going back to himself after that kiss.  
“You know it's the second time you kiss me since the beginning of this retreat. Since the beginning of our marriage actually.”  
Mickey gave him a look.  
“It was just for show, so don't get excited.”  
Ian nodded. Yeah, okay. He could do that. Chill Ian. Don't think about Mickey's soft lips on yours, the memory still unprinted there, even if both times only lasted a second each.

******

The crowd gathered around the stage when Banger stood up near the band and tapped his glass with a spoon. Just then, Mickey received a text from Jeff: “Take him down.” The black haired man just shook his head and pocketed his phone to listen to the speech.  
“This year's Golden Hand Shake, for Best Team Spirit, goes to a new face, and one of the funniest son of a bitch I ever had the pleasure to know, and I think you know who I'm talking about... Mickey Milkovich. Get up here!”  
Shit. Had Mickey been that charming and funny? He had just been acting out for the sake of his 'evil master plan', but now he had won an award! Fuck. Mickey had never been recognized like this before, never won a prize for being the best at something. It was quite nice. Everybody was clapping and cheering, and with a pat in the back from Ian, Mickey climbed on stage to accept his prize – an ugly statuette in cheap golden metal representing two hands shaking.  
“Congratulations Milkovich!”  
Mickey coughed slightly before making the speech everyone seemed to want.  
“Well... Thank you all for an amazing weekend. I have to thank my husband, Ian.” Mickey gestured toward him and Ian smiled proudly. “He probably never told you the story about how we met. It might come as a surprise to many of you that we didn't know each other for very long before we got hitched.” The redhead's face was falling slowly with each and every new word coming out of his husband's mouth. “But what can I say: when you know, you know. To Ian.”  
Mickey raised his award for the crowd to cheer and clap again, and finally Ian smiled, reassured that Mickey wasn't about to share their secret... yet. The black haired man got off the stage and Banger came back to the microphone.  
“Well that was adorable. To the happy couple!”  
The man raised his empty glass, tapping it with his spoon, and soon everybody joined in.  
“They're clinging.” Ian noted.  
“Yeah.” Mickey nodded.  
“You know what that means?”  
“Yeah... If it's what the crowd wants...”  
“We don't have to Mick.”  
“Third time's a charm right?”  
Ian smiled, and Mickey gently grabbed the back of his neck, allowing his husband to lean in. At first, the kiss was soft, just lips on lips – and oh god, how sweet Ian's lips were – but soon it became more passionate, their tongues meeting and playing with one another. Ian's hand moved to Mickey's cheek, and Mickey let himself being held, being close to Ian for a moment. Until he remembered where they were, who they were, and his plan, so he broke the kiss – reluctantly, true, but it had to be done. Ian was smiling at him, looking like a happy puppy, and Mickey noticed that the band on stage was now playing funky 80s music and everybody was dancing. Ian started to dance too, placing his hands on Mickey's hips to make him join in.  
“You're a dick, you know that?”  
Mickey said it without any true conviction, and Ian just smiled.  
“You love it!”  
And soon they were both dancing and goofing without a care in the world.

******

The sky was black, filled with all the stars we can't see in Chicago, the snow was slowly falling over the dark gardens, and the fountain was spilling jets of water illuminated from the ground. It was beautiful, and romantic, but all Ian could see was the man walking beside him. The beautiful man who had kissed him barely half an hour before. The beautiful man with whom he had laughed and danced. The beautiful man who was now drinking champagne from the bottle.  
“When was the last time you really felt free?” Mickey suddenly asked. “And don't say Vegas, because if you do I'll have to cry.”  
Ian had to think for a second while Mickey finished his bottle.  
“Okay... There was this one day... It was before Mason, when I just started to take my meds on a regular basis, when my brain started to get stabilized. I was running by this beach I always ran by when I was manic. It was sunset and... I just stopped, and sat on the sand. I watched the waves come and go. The sun moving up in the sky. It was... peaceful. Exactly like I was finally feeling in my mind. There was nobody around, no one to please but myself.”  
“That's the photo you have.”  
Ian turned to fully look at Mickey.  
“You saw the photo?”  
“Yeah. You put it on my wardrobe, with the picture of your family. I still use it everyday for my clothes you know.”  
Ian smiled, before his mind went back to that day on the beach.  
“That” he added. “Was a great day.”  
Mickey smiled and threw his empty bottle somewhere in the dark. The glass shattered when it hit the ground.  
“I did take myself out of the game, you know. I've stopped everything before I ever had to loose.”  
Ian hesitated for a second before he took Mickey's hand in his. The man didn't take it back, so Ian rubbed his thumb across the tattooed knuckles.  
“I'd bet on you Mick.”

******

For the last two nights when Ian and Mickey had shared an hotel room, Mickey had slept on the couch, and Ian on the bed, like in their apartment. So maybe this night shouldn't have been different. Maybe. But when they arrived in the room, Mickey only waited for the door to be closed before he attacked Ian's lips with his own. The redhead moaned and grabbed Mickey's hips to pull him closer. When he felt Ian's erection against his own, Mickey sighed. He wasn't really sure what he was doing. Maybe he had had too much to drink, or maybe he had gone without dick for too long, but this, right now, felt amazingly good. Ian ran his hands under Mickey's shirt, his big hands caressing the soft skin. Mickey pulled out of the kiss, and opened the buttons of Ian's shirt one by one, not fast enough, while the redhead did the same thing to Mickey's shirt. Once their chests naked, they went back to kissing, biting at each other's lips hungrily. But it only lasted a few moments before Mickey tugged at Ian's pants.  
“Off. Take these off.” he requested against his lips.  
Ian obeyed in a matter of second, and quickly got rid of his pants and boxers. Mickey took the time to enjoy the sight, before he did the same thing. And his hands were back on Ian's skin. So soft. So warm. So sexy. His toned chest, his strong arms, his millions of freckles. Mickey left kisses on his husband's neck, and shoulders. He tasted good, so sweet. Ian's hands traveled to Mickey's ass while his mouth stayed close to his ear.  
“I want you so bad.”  
The warm breath and low voice made Mickey shivered and moaned. Ian seemed to take it as an encouragement as he ran a finger over Mickey's hole.  
“Do you have... stuff?”  
The question made the black haired man stop what he was doing. Fuck. He raised his eyes to meet Ian's.  
“No. You?”  
Ian shook his head.  
“No. I... fuck. I came here alone. I never thought... fuck.”  
Yeah, and Mickey didn't come here for that, he never thought either. Fuck indeed. Maybe they should stop, go to bed separately like every other night. But Mickey knew that if they stopped now, they would never do it again. It was a one night thing due to a perfect combination of enough alcohol and a three days building on Mickey's part. They couldn't... they couldn't stop... They didn't want to stop.  
“I'm clean.” the black haired man breathed. “And I can take it with enough spit.”  
Okay, that was not sexy, but fuck it, he was kinda desperate here.  
“I'm clean too.” Ian answered, kissing Mickey's neck softly.  
Mickey turned his head to fully kiss the redhead, with tongue and all.  
“Okay.” he said.  
“Okay.” Ian replied against his lips.  
The black haired man pushed gently his husband toward the bed, until Ian's knees bucked and he fell on his back. Mickey left him enough room and time to sit against the headboard, before he straddled his laps. Ian kissed his husband one last time, and then replaced his tongue by a couple of fingers. Mickey sucked on them, hard, wetting them as well as he could, before letting them go with a loud plop. Ian went back to kissing Mickey again while his hand moved back to the brunet's ass, and his first finger entered his hole. Mickey moaned and raised his hips to give Ian a better access. The redhead moved his finger a few times, and then added a second one, scissoring them. It was good, so good. Ian added a third finger. Mickey moaned again, louder this time. So good, so, so good. But not enough at the same time.  
“I'm good. I'm good.”  
Ian nodded, crooked his fingers one last time, before taking them off. He kissed Mickey again. Hungry. Mickey pushed him away gently and crawled back until he was facing Ian's groin. He took Ian in his mouth, getting him wet with saliva hard and fast. When the redhead started to pull at his hair, Mickey went back up to meet Ian's hooded, blown eyes, and reached underneath him to tug on Ian's dick a couple of times before guiding it to his hole. He slowly, so slowly, sat back on Ian's laps, feeling his cock filling him inch by inch. Ian was a sweaty, panting mess, long before Mickey was fully seated. The redhead raised his knees, planting his feet on the mattress to give himself some leverage. Mickey braced his hands on Ian's chest and lifted his body up, before dropping back down, meeting Ian with every thrust. They repeated the movements again, and again, going faster every time, gasping, breathing in each other's mouth. They couldn't even kiss anymore, it was just open mouth against open mouth, their air and moans melting together. Ian was holding Mickey's hips so tight, it would certainly leave marks, but the black haired man couldn't bring himself to care, not when he could feel his husband inside him, pounding at his prostate, when under his hands the muscles in Ian's torso were tensing with every movement they made together. When one of Ian's hands left Mickey's hips it was to fist his cock and jerk it quickly. At the feeling, Mickey dropped his head against Ian's shoulder. It was so much, too much, that all it took was a couple of hard quick pumps before he came all over Ian's stomach. The redhead abandoned Mickey's now soft member, and wrapped his arms around the black haired man's body. He crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss, and Mickey gripped his shoulders and the back of his neck to hold him closer, kissing him back with as much intensity, if not more. Ian moaned into his mouth, and shuddered through his orgasm, before they slowly, slowly parted. The redhead fell back onto the bed. Mickey gently eased Ian out of himself and stood up, walking into the bathroom to come back only seconds later with a wet cloth. They cleaned themselves up and lied under the covers next to each other, but not touching, sharing a bed for the first time since Vegas. Mickey's lips were tingling. He licked at them, enjoying the taste, the last bits of Ian on himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very experienced at writing smut, so I hope it wasn't too bad...


	10. If you don't make mistakes you don't make anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I needed some time to grief Gallavich and make my peace with the show. Now that I'm the new Shameless Gandhi, I'm back.
> 
> Also I'm not very proud of this chapter, and I hope it doesn't suck too much.

 

Ian woke up wrapped around a warm body. For a scary second, he thought back at all the times he had woken up next to someone he didn't know the name of. Then, he thought about Mason. And finally, he remembered. Mickey. They had slept together in one of the most amazing nights Ian had ever lived. They were great together, they fitted, like their bodies were made to be together thanks a perfect fusion of atoms and molecules, and stuff Lip understood way better than Ian. The redhead sighed in content and dropped a soft kiss to his husband neck before leaving the bed, very much against all of his will, for a quick trip into the bathroom. Once the door closed behind him, he released his bladder, and then took his meds with a glass of water. He waited through the direct after-effects, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, before going back to the bedroom with the intention of waking Mickey up in a very sexy way. But the bed was suddenly empty. And Mickey's clothes and bag were gone.

******

Jeff called Mickey three times, and Ian five. And that's not to count the multiple texts on both sides. Once back to Chicago, Mickey avoided the two men. He didn't want to have to explain to his friend why he didn't go through with the plan. And he didn't want to face his husband after the night they had spent together. Yes, he regretted having sex with Ian. He always knew he would regret it, but the alcohol in his system had lowered his inhibitions and, let's admit it, Ian was quite sexy. And he was damn good in bed! Two things Mickey tried his hardest not to think about. And to achieve that, he didn't go back directly to his apartment after ditching Ian at the retreat. He first went to Svetlana's, and spent the whole day with his son. Playing with an innocent kid can be a good way to clear one's mind, and just making sure the child is happy, healthy and well fed doesn't leave a lot of room to think. When Svetlana kicked Mickey out after Yevgeny went to bed, the black haired man went to the hangar he was renting and spent the entire night working on his wooden furniture, which was another good way to avoid thinking. And when he started to feel really tired and in need of a shower, Mickey went to Mandy's. Seeing his long face and red eyes, his sister let him inside and crash on her couch without asking any questions.

******

It rang, it rang, and it rang again. Ian had been back in the apartment for a few days now, and he still didn't have any news from Mickey. He had tried calling, and calling again, and texting a good hundred times, but no answers. He felt like a lovestruck teenager, and he hated it. He went to work, and came back home, kept his routine intact, but all of his thoughts during the day – and during most of the night – were directed toward Mickey and the night they had shared. He had a crush, a crazy big crush. Fuck, was it even a crush anymore?

The redhead was lying on the couch, in deep self pity mode, buried under a very cosy and soft comforter, when the front door crashed opened. Ian stood up so fast his head hurt. Mickey?  
“Hey ginger! We need to talk.”  
“Oh Mandy... Hi.”  
The woman moved Ian's legs to make herself some room on the couch.  
“Disappointed to see me? Were expected someone else?”  
Ian sighed and brought his legs up to his torso.  
“How did you know?”  
Mandy ran a soothing hand on her friend's arm.  
“Mickey's been crashing at my place for a couple of days.”  
So that's where he was.  
“I should have known...”  
“What happened Ian? You've been perfect jerks to each other since you came back from Vegas, but then you go on a work trip for a few days and you come back avoiding one another? It doesn't make a lot of sense.”  
“What did he tell you?”  
“Absolutely nothing. He's out most of the day, working I guess, and comes back at my place when I'm already sleeping. The only time I asked he told me he couldn't stand your face anymore, which is not big news, but still, what the fuck happened on this stupid retreat?”  
Ian sighed again. He slowly stood up, walked to the kitchen and came back with two beers. He needed the poison right now. He handed a bottle to Mandy, and took a sip from his own.  
“Sex. That's what happened.” he finally blurted out.  
Mandy almost chocked on her drink.  
“Fuck! You slept with my brother? Oh my god!”  
Ian smiled slightly at his friend's reaction.  
“Yeah. It was nice back then, but now I guess it was just a very bad idea.”  
“Because Mickey's avoiding you?”  
Ian dropped his gaze to his knees.  
“It's weird, because at first I couldn't stand him, but now that he's gone I kinda miss him... I don't even care if he never wants to fuck anymore, I just... I just want him back...”  
Mandy squeezed gently her friend's hand.  
“You love him?”  
Her voice was soft and comforting, and Ian had to think about his answer for a moment. He shook his head slowly.  
“I don't know. Maybe... I'm not sure Mandy. Not sure about... the whole thing...”

******

As usual, Mickey was in his new home: the warehouse he was renting and had transformed into a wood workshop. Mandy slammed the door behind her. She was well determined to talk to her brother about his marital situation.  
“Hey fuckface!”  
Mickey stopped what he was doing to glare at his sister.  
“The hell you're doing here?”  
“I've just been talking to your husband!”  
Mickey sighed loudly.  
“What the fuck for?”  
“Because I'm tired of having you on my couch!”  
Mickey shook his head and went back to the piece of furniture he was currently building.  
“You can't stay with me forever Mick, you have to live under the same roof that your husband, court ordered! And you have to see him tomorrow anyway, counseling remember?”  
Mickey slammed his tools on his work table.  
“I know Mandy! Don't you think I fucking know all of that?!”  
“So stop being such an ass and move back to your apartment!”  
“Go the fuck away, Mandy!”  
The woman raised her hands in surrender. Her brother could be so exhausting sometimes. So she just turned around and left. Fuck him, he was not her problem anymore.

******

Ian was already sitting on the couch in Dana's office when Mickey barged in about ten minutes late. The black haired man sat as far away from Ian as he could and pronounced his only words for the session:  
“I'm here because I have to, but I won't talk so don't even bother.”  
Dana nodded and wrote something in her notebook.  
“Mickey's just a grumpy old man.” Ian smiled weakly, before he started talking about random useless small things to fill the hour, avoiding his husband's eyes as well as he avoided the touchy subject of them having sex.

When the session ended, Mickey stood up fast and walked away. Ian caught up with him in the hallway and grabbed him by the wrist.  
“Mickey! Wait! We need to talk!”  
The black haired man shook his hand out of Ian's grip, but still stopped and faced him.  
“Alright Gallagher. What do you want to talk about?”  
“Us. What happened? What are we?”  
“Nothing. We are nothing.”  
“But...”  
“No, Ian. It was just a one time thing. Nothing changed.”  
The redhead swallowed the hard knot forming in his throat. He thought back at what he had confessed to Mandy. It was true: he didn't care about the sex, he just wanted Mickey back, one way or another. So he nodded halfheartedly and tried to keep his voice steady.  
“Okay. A one night stand. I get it. I won't bring it back. But could you at least... move back home?”  
Mickey took a second, probably weighting his options, before he spoke again.  
“I don't really have a choice, do I?”

******

“Who is Jeff? And why does he keep calling you?”  
Since Mickey was back in his apartment, Ian was acting... nice and... boyfriend-like – or husband-like in that case. It was even worst than when he was doing his best to piss Mickey off. The black haired man snatched his phone from the kitchen counter and turned it off before pocketing it with a grunt. Jeff was a persistent fucker, Mickey would have to take care of him sooner or later.  
“He's no one.”  
Ian raised his eyebrows in a perfect imitation of Mickey – so now they were mirroring each other's expressions, great – and put down the knife he was using to cut vegetables. Mickey sighed loudly.  
“He's a guy I used to fuck. But apparently he doesn't understand the word _no_.”  
Ian looked back at his vegetables but didn't go back to cutting just yet.  
“You're still seeing him?”  
Mickey sneered. The redhead glanced back at him. Oh, it was a real question?  
“I'm not loosing 1.5 millions over some random fuck.”  
Ian smiled and grabbed his knife back.  
“Okay.”  
At first, the smile on his husband's face made Mickey's stomach fluttered. But fuck no, this couldn't be happening. So Mickey made a move to go sit on his couch, before he realized something. He turned back to Ian.  
“You know what? You have no right to know who I'm seeing or not seeing. I could be fucking all of Illinois, it still wouldn't be any of your business!”  
Ian emitted a dry laugh while cutting through a carrot with more force than before.  
“Actually it is.” he replied without looking at Mickey and going fully aggressive on the carrot. “We're fucking married Mickey, whether you like it or not, you're not supposed to fuck anyone but me.”  
“Well we're not fucking so...”  
“I know we're not, believe me! But as you pointed out so well: if you see another guy – or even a girl, what do I know? - you'll walk away with absolutely nothing!”  
“Oh I'm aware of that. But that doesn't mean I'm desperate enough to touch you!”  
It was a fucking lie. A huge, blatant lie. But if Mickey kept his poker face long enough, Ian would believe him. Right?  
“Fuck you Mickey!” the redhead yelled while throwing a handful of vegetables in the direction of his husband.  
“Yeah, not doing that, sorry!” Mickey shouted back, trying his best to avoid the projectiles.

******

Living with Mickey had always been a pain in the ass. But Ian had imagined that after the night they had spent together, things would change. He was dreaming, with his eyes wide open. Life with Mickey was worse than before. Probably because Ian was pinning over his husband days and nights, but mostly days – even if the nights weren't so much fun either.  
“Everything's okay sweetie?”  
Ian raised his head to look at his big sister walking toward him with a bowl of chips. He gave her a weak smile.  
“I'm okay. And you?”  
“Oh I have a 2-year-old who asks A LOT of questions. Kinda remind me of you actually. And Debs. Lip was just a smartass, and Carl and Liam weren't big talkers. It's exhausting, but she's my daughter, I love her unconditionally.”  
“It's nice.”  
Fiona ran a soothing hand on her brother's leg.  
“Hey. You sure you're okay?”  
Ian sighed. No way he could hide anything from his sister.  
“I'm just doing through a... dry path lately.”  
“With your husband? But you're like, newlyweds. I didn't think anybody – and especially you – could go without sex so soon in a marriage.”  
“Yep, well... What do you know? I ain't getting any, nothing I can do about it.”  
Fiona smirked.  
“You sure about that?”  
Ian genuinely smiled for the first time today.  
“Believe me, I tried.”  
“And it didn't work?”  
Fiona took a moment to think.  
“I know it's probably not the best advice but... did you ever think about... getting a little on the side?”  
Ian shook his head.  
“I'm not cheating on Mickey.”  
“If you do it right, he'll never know and you'll be much happier.”  
Ian turned to fully look at his sister. Was she serious? No wonder her relationships never worked if _this_ was her advice.  
“I'm not cheating on my husband. Not only because we have some sort of... pre-nup. But also because he's my husband. I... I rather go without dick for months and work on our problems, than seeing someone else.”

******

“Yo Jeff! What the fuck man?”  
Mickey entered the bar loudly and walked straight to the barman, brandishing his phone high in the air. The device was showing the many, many, missed calls and texts from Mickey's ex fuckbuddy. The black haired man slammed it on the counter. Jeff finished pouring the drink of a patron before directing his attention to Mickey.  
“You made him sign it?”  
Mickey sat on a stool and Jeff poured him a beer.  
“I don't like being harassed like that.”  
“So you didn't do it?”  
Mickey sipped some of his drink.  
“First off, it's none of your business. And you know you're not getting a cut of the money, right?”  
Jeff started wiping a glass.  
“I figured. But I hoped maybe you wouldn't be such a dick.”  
“Hey, I'm the one having to live with the guy for six months! You just sent me a piece of paper.”  
Jeff shrugged and went to serve another patron. When he came back toward Mickey, the black haired was ready to leave.  
“Could at least buy me a good bottle of booze. Or dinner.”  
“We'll see!” Mickey shouted over his shoulder. “Maybe if you forget my number!”

******

Jeff didn't call again, or text. That was one less fucker in Mickey's world. Good. But he was still stuck with the biggest fucker of all: his redheaded husband. His hot, sexy, redheaded husband who wore less and less shirts, and shot blinding smiles to Mickey every time he could. What a pain in the ass – and not in the good way.

Mickey was back in his shower, stroking slowly his aching cock, when Ian's face invaded his mind. Again. Like every time he tried to please himself these days. Mickey couldn't stop picturing his panting breath and low moans, they were like imprinted in his brain. Shit. He punched the wall for the umpteenth time. The brick which was used to receiving Mickey's fist was starting to come off. The man took a deep breath, before making a decision. A decision he wished would have been harder to make. He turned the water off and put his sweatpants on. He crossed the few feet separating the bathroom from the bedroom and opened the door without knocking. Ian was half lying on the bed, apparently reading, but jumped when Mickey came in.  
“No kisses, no feelings, just sex. You give it to me good and hard and we don't talk about it. No boyfriend and girlfriend shit, just physical. Got it?”  
Ian nodded vigorously while he slowly sat up on the bed. Mickey might have seen a tiny smile on his lips, but if he did it disappeared quickly.  
“Okay.” Ian agreed.

 


	11. I'll keep my couch ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. I actually have several excuses:  
> \- I have been very sad about the BOTYcon being cancelled, I didn't want to hear about Shameless for at least 48h (before things solved themselves)  
> \- then I started to work on a new fic idea, but it needs a lot of preparation to get it historically accurate, so it took me some time and I'm not sure I'll be able to make it actually happen... I'll let you know ;)  
> \- and finally I'm not very happy with this chapter and the next one, it was initially one big chapter but I had to cut it in half, I had too many random pieces of life so I decided to reunite them into two short chapters instead of one too long, but I came back on them a lot...  
> Also, I have been a little busy in my personal life, and I'm a very slow writer (that's why my chapters aren't very long, it still takes me forever to write them), so all that combined made you wait, sorry...

 

Mandy typed the three numbers followed by the letter, and the door buzzed open. She climbed the stairs until the fourth floor and took the key out of her purse. Ian had been acting edgy for the past month, always busy when Mandy wanted to hang out, ditching way too many of her calls, and making pathetic excuses to avoid talking to her. It was weird. And Mickey was, obviously, not helping on the matter. Sure, Mandy and Ian only had been friends for a few weeks, but she liked him and she wasn't ready to loose their friendship just yet. This is why she was now opening the door of her brother's apartment with her very own key. She fully intended on talking to the redhead about his behavior lately. Unfortunately – for her – the sight she opened the door to was more than disturbing. Ian was sitting on the couch, absolutely naked, while Mickey, also absolutely naked, knelt on the floor, his head between the redhead's legs.  
“OH MY GOD!!!”  
“MANDY?!”  
The woman turned back on her tracks as fast as she could, and soon she was back in the hallway, the door of the apartment safely closed behind her. She felt a shiver going down her spine. If there was one thing she never wanted to see that was her brother giving head to the husband he was supposed to despise. No, scratch that. What she really didn't want to see was her brother having any kind of sexual activity with anybody.  
She heard the door being open but kept her back to it.  
“Mandy? … I have clothes on.”  
She finally consented to turn around. Ian was standing there, in a T-shirt and a pair of boxers, looking as sheepish as ever.  
“I'm sorry Mandy.”  
“It's okay. I should have called. Oh wait. You never answer my calls anymore! What the fuck Ian?”  
The redhead looked like a kicked puppy, and Mandy wanted to hug him, but also hit him hard.  
“Mickey didn't want me to tell you, or anybody actually.”  
That wasn't really surprising. But the woman would have preferred to discover that her brother and his husband were... whatever they were, in other circumstances. She shook her head trying to erase the painful memory.  
“I gotta go. Let's take some time before we see each other again.”  
She made a move to leave, but Ian tried to catch up with her.  
“Mandy...”  
“No, I need to go burn my eyes with acid!”

******

Ian and Mickey had spent the last month hooking up regularly. It wasn't such a bad situation, except Ian wasn't allowed to kiss Mickey, or do anything remotely close to show any type of feelings or affection. They were a married couple with a very active sex life, but no romantic interaction. Yeah, it was totally weird, and hard, and horrible, but better than nothing as far as Ian was concerned.

When the redhead re-entered the apartment, his husband was already fully dressed and pacing furiously in the living room.  
“Mandy?”  
“Lucky it wasn't Yevgeny right?”  
“S'not funny Gallagher!”  
“Come on, Mick, it's Mandy, she knows the whole story already. It's not a big deal.”  
“You should have locked the door.”  
“I did. She had a key.”  
“You should have answered her calls.”  
“What about you?”  
“She's your friend!”  
“She's your sister!”  
Mickey was being ridiculous. Ian just shook it off and went to put more clothes on. He had felt guilty of the way he had been avoiding Mandy for the past few weeks, just because Mickey had said so, but now he was relieved she knew. True, she could have discovered the truth in a less crude way, but it was still one less secret to keep. Ian was tired of them. He already had to lie to his siblings, and to his boss and coworkers, and even to Mickey when he had to pretend he was okay with their relationship. Being completely and fully honest with Mandy would be a well deserved relief.  
Ian came back from the bedroom and Mickey hadn't move, he was still freaking out, it was almost funny by now.  
“It's not a big deal.” Ian repeated boringly.  
But Mickey just looked at him with his big blue eyes. So the redhead took a step forward and enclosed his husband's face with his hands.  
“Mick, listen to me.” he said gently. “It's okay.”  
The black haired man seemed to relax under the words and nodded slowly. Ian smiled. Good. They were good.

******

Weeks went by. The two men fucked. They hung out – but only in their apartment. They kept pretending they couldn't stand each other during their sessions with Dana. Ian became the new coach of Liam's Little League team, following his husband's advice. Mickey still sent Ian away when Yevgeny came to the apartment. And Mandy hadn't burnt her eyes with acid and was now a master in awkward innuendos.

Ian was happier that he had been for a long time when his boss called him in his office. Banger made a vague hand gesture for Ian to sit, and the redhead obeyed.  
“Gallagher. You've been a very good employee lately. Don't get me wrong, you were before, but since the retreat I can see a whole new you. You're not only efficient, you can also be very fun, and a real team player. And that's what we're looking for here.”  
Ian nodded, not sure if he was supposed to say something. But before he had time to make up with mind, Banger continued.  
“That's why I want to offer you the promotion. You truly deserve it.”  
Ian smiled because he knew that was what he was supposed to do, but he was less cheerful he thought he would be.  
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” he just said.

******

“Hey.”  
“Hey!”  
Mickey almost stood up from his desk to go greet his husband more warmly before he remembered they didn't do that. But he did watch Ian for a little longer than he usually did. The redhead had a weird look on his face, like he was thinking too hard.  
“What's wrong?”  
Ian raised his head in surprise like he had forgotten Mickey was in the room.  
“Oh, it's just... I got the promotion.”  
“That's cool. Wasn't it what you wanted, why you made me come to this stupid retreat?”  
“It was... It's just... I don't know... I don't really care.”  
Mickey smiled, mostly to himself. He could tell you he knew Ian would react like that with the promotion, he could tell you he knew exactly what was going on his husband's head, but he barely admitted it to himself.  
“You should quit.” he just said.  
“But to do what?”  
Mickey shrugged.  
“Maybe you could take some time to figure out what you really want to do. We have some money remember, and you never actually liked your job anyway.”  
“I used to want to be officer.”  
Ian said those words with such sadness in them that Mickey finally stood up and walked toward him. The redhead was standing against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, looking at the floor.  
“I know.” Mickey said softly. “But maybe you could find another dream.”  
Ian smiled and raised his head. Their eyes met. The two men were only a couple of feet away.  
“And if I don't find anything, you could still hire me.” Ian joked.  
Mickey took a step back toward his desk.  
“I don't hire nutcases!” he joked back.  
Ian, fully laughing now, made a move to kick him, but Mickey ditched it.  
“Asshole!”

******

“I think I'm gonna take Mickey on a date.”  
Mandy swallowed her food slowly.  
“What?”  
“You heard me.”  
The woman looked at her redheaded friend like he had just declared he wanted to attack the restaurant they were eating at with a Kalashnikov – and even that would make more sense.  
“You want to lose a limb?”  
Ian smiled like she had just told a hilarious joke.  
“No, I'm serious. I think we're ready for the next step.”  
“The next step? Oh yeah right, you marry a guy, then fuck him on the regular, and finally it's time for your first date. Makes total sense!”  
“It does for us.”  
Then it hit her. Her friend was in love, madly in love with her brother, probably even more than he realized it himself. Mandy wasn't sure she knew why – to her Mickey was just a shithead – but she decided to play nice anyway, to stop messing around and just be a good friend.  
“Okay Ian.” she said. “Do what feels right. But just in case, I'll keep my couch ready.”  
Better safe than sorry.

******

The idea came to Ian when he walked out of his boss' office after he told him he wanted to quit. Mickey had been so nice and supportive, he was acting more and more like a boyfriend lately, and what Ian had told Mandy was right: dating was the next step for them, as odd as it sounded. So the redhead entered his apartment determined to ask his husband out. Yeah, it really sounded weird.  
Mickey was working at his desk, as usual, but raised his head and shot Ian a smile as soon as the redhead closed the door.  
“So, did you do it?”  
“What?”  
“Did you quit your job?” Mickey repeated slowly like he was talking to a child.  
Ian smiled back.  
“Oh yeah, I did.”  
Mickey stood up and moved toward the bedroom with a playful smirk on his lips.  
“Good. Now let's celebrate.”  
Ian opened his mouth to talk, but his husband was already out of sight and probably already naked. Oh well, they could talk later. So he went into the bedroom too, losing his clothes on the way there. As expected, Mickey grabbed Ian's hips as soon as he caught sight of him. The black haired man put his lips on his husband's neck and started to suck a hickey there. Ian's breath got caught in his throat. Fuck, that was new. But he barely had time to realize, Mickey was dropping to his knees. He raised his eyes to meet Ian's and licked his lips once, before he took Ian's cock in his mouth, never breaking eye contact. The redhead slipped his fingers into his husband's hair and let them rest there. Mickey pressed his nails into the back of Ian’s thighs, pulled him closer, sucked him in deeper. Weeks of practice and he was getting just perfect at it, knowing exactly what Ian liked. The redhead tried to keep his eyes open, to not lose Mickey's gaze on him for even a second. Until he couldn't anymore. So he pulled back with a smile and twisted Mickey around so that he could shove him down on the bed. The black haired man let out a breathless laugh while Ian fumbled in the drawer of the bedside table until he found their bottle of lube. He opened the cap and Mickey grabbed the headboard. When Ian slided a slick finger inside his husband he found him already loose enough.  
“I got impatient waiting for you.” Mickey breathed.  
Ian laughed slightly and dropped a kiss between his shoulders. Only a few seconds later, the redhead was pushing inside his husband, gripping tightly his lower stomach. Mickey let out a long moan and thrust backward until Ian's hips were against his ass. Ian started moving, going harder as Mickey went louder. It was good, exactly what Ian needed after quitting the first stable job he had for years. He moaned, letting the sound come from deep in his throat. Suddenly, a catchy pop song filled the room. Ian stopped his movements.  
“It's Lip's ring tone. I need to pick up.”  
Mickey turned his head at a weird angle to be able to glare at his husband.  
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”  
Ian shrugged as best as he could without losing his grip on Mickey.  
“Last time I didn't answer him, he called 911 on me.”  
Mickey's eyes went menacing.  
“I swear to God Ian, you pull out you'll never see me again.”  
“Okay.” the redhead agreed, while making a difficult contortion to grab his phone lying on the floor, and then accepting the call without detaching himself from his husband. “Hey Lip. I'm quite...”  
Mickey emitted a low grunt and pushed back, hard.  
“... fuck! Busy. I'm busy.”  
Ian caught a glimpse of his husband's devilish grin, fucking himself on Ian's cock, and did his best not to moan. Unfortunately, Lip seemed to have notice his short breath and the very distinct sound of skin slapping skin.  
“Ian, are you in the middle of sex?”  
“No?”  
“You better not cheat on Mickey, you know that!”  
“I'm... fuuuck... I'm not.”  
“Are you fucking Mic..”  
Ian didn't wait for the end of that sentence before he hung up and threw his phone as far as he could.  
“You're gonna pay for that.” he warned Mickey dangerously.  
“Better be.” Mickey grinned back.

 


	12. Does illusion count for something we hide?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end guys. Only one more chapter, maybe two, I'm still not sure.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry in advance, I know you'll all hate me for how this chapter ends. But we all need a little drama in our lives, right? ;)

 

“I have date. I can't cancel.”  
“Yeah, well I have a client, I can't cancel either! It's your fucking week-end for God's sake!”  
“You find a way. I have date, I told you.”  
“No, you didn't. Svetla... Svetlana?! Fuck! Bitch hung up on me!”  
Mickey threw his phone violently on the couch. He caught Ian's gaze on him from the kitchen counter, so he sighed deeply.  
“What's wrong Mick?”  
“Svetlana has a fucking date and she wants me to take care of Yevgeny on Friday. But I'm meeting my first client, I can't cancel or I'll lose him.”  
The black haired man threw himself next to his phone. His baby mama was a real bitch sometimes. Why couldn't she cancel her stupid date? He swore some more and ran his hands over his face.  
“I can take Yevgeny to practice with me. He'll play with Liam, could be fun.” Ian suggested.  
Mickey jumped to his feet to glare at his husband like he had definitely lost his mind this time.  
“No. No fucking way. You're not babysitting my son.”  
“You have a better idea?”  
Mickey thought about it for a second. Then it hit him.  
“Mandy. I'll call Mandy.”  
He quickly picked his phone and dialed his sister's number. Unfortunately, and because Mickey was certainly cursed, she had to work and couldn't move her shift for _'just a nephew'_. So Mickey reconsidered Ian's offer. It could be nice for Yevgeny, and he would enjoy playing with Liam, but that was exactly the problem. Yev couldn't enjoy spending time with Ian, or make friends with his siblings. Not when the divorce was drawing closer and closer – and way too fast for Mickey's taste, but that was an entirely other topic – and he would never be able to see Ian again. Nope, not happening.  
“Why not?” Ian asked as if he had read his husband's mind.  
“Because he likes you.”  
“I only saw him once, weeks ago.”  
“And that's the problem, isn't it? Just this once and he was already crazy about you. He keeps asking me when he can see you again and eat your pancakes. We can't do that. I don't want him to suffer when the divorce'll go through.”  
Ian nodded slowly, like he understood way more than what Mickey had said.  
“Okay.” he simply said. “I can call Lip if you want.”  
“Lip?”  
“He can take care of Yevgeny. He knows the truth about us, and he can just say he's a friend of yours.”  
“Lip's an asshole.”  
“He's not an asshole enough to hurt a kid, Mick.”  
Mickey let the idea make his way into his mind. Yeah, maybe that was the best solution for everyone.  
“You think he'll do it?”  
“Well, we might have to pay him, he's pretty familiar with how filthy rich we are.”  
“Hey. Helping family is for free.”  
“Yeah, right. I'm sure Mandy never had to pay you for anything.”  
“Bitch's greedy. At one point I had to charge her, or I'd never hear the end of it.”

******

Lip met Mickey in front of his son's school on Friday afternoon. Ian had almost begged him – before he offered a good amount of money – to take care of the kid for a few hours. Not than Lip did it for the money, he was also curious to spend some one-on-one time with his brother-in-law, and even more time with his sort-of-nephew – even if he had promised Ian he wouldn't tell the truth to the kid.  
Mickey was casually smoking, leaning against the wall, ignoring the death-glares the other parents were sending him. Lip went to stand next to him and lit a cigarette for himself. They smoked in silence for a minute or so.  
“So... You fucked my brother, huh?”  
“Fuck off Phillip.”  
Lip snickered. It was too easy...  
“So, who am I supposed to be?”  
The first children started to come out of the school. Mickey threw his cigarette on the ground.  
“Don't know, a babysitter maybe? That's why you're paid for it.”  
Okay, so the guy was a grumpy asshole, Lip wasn't sure what his brother saw in him. He was about to retort with his usual wit when a small kid came running toward them. He looked an awful lot like Mickey, from his eyes to his hair, and even his short size or his expressive eyebrows. Lip threw his own cigarette away while Mickey quickly introduced him to his son. If the Gallagher had to choose one reason not to trust his brother's husband, it was probably the fact that he had a son. What kind of gay guy got a girl pregnant? One who had spent too much time in the closet, that's who! Ian had been into too many relationships with closeted married men for Lip not to worry – especially when the guy in question didn't want Ian to spend time with his son. But for now, Lip just smiled and pretended to be okay with this shit-show of a marriage and the weird evening he had gotten himself into.

******

The kid was sort of adorable, Lip had to admit it. After spending almost three hours with him, he now understood why Ian was so fond of him. But Lip was still worried, his younger brother was way too much into this relationship. He seemed to want nothing more than to have a real family with Mickey and Yevgeny. Ian had always been like that, a romantic with big dreams, but it had always gotten him into the worst situations, and the worst relationships. Lip didn't want to witness that again, it was too painful to see his brother being hurt. Before he took a decision about what to do about it, Yevgeny's mother came to pick her son up. She was tall, not so bad looking, and showing enough breasts for Lip's liking.  
“You sleep with Mickey?” she asked him suddenly, just before leaving.  
Lip snorted.  
“No, I prefer my dates with a vagina.”  
She nodded approvingly.  
“Yeah, I hate the penis too.”  
And with that she was gone. Lip closed the door with a smile. Holy shit, Mickey's baby mama was a lesbian? Maybe their situation wasn't so suspicious after all...

******

Apparently, Lip's babysitting gig didn't go so bad. Mickey never complained about it, and Lip told Ian that Yevgeny was a cute kid and that he really liked Svetlana. He also asked how the kid was conceived, but Ian honestly couldn't answer. He still hadn't break his promise to Mickey not to ask about his son, and all he knew about Svetlana was that she was an ex-hooker and that since she stopped working she preferred to date women – Mickey wasn't yet sure about her sexuality.

The success of this little afternoon had lifted Ian's spirits and he was now more than ready to ask Mickey on that date, if it wasn't for the fact that the idea of his husband saying no was scaring the hell out of him. Because he didn't want to loose Mickey, Ian decided to be subtle about it. He waited for his husband to come back from his rented warehouse before casually asking him if he wanted to go grab a bite outside of the apartment. Mickey suggested they ordered food instead, but Ian insisted, and that's how they found themselves sharing a pizza in a greasy restaurant downtown. They joked, talked, and laughed. The atmosphere was light and comfortable, Ian loved it. Until Mickey asked the question the redhead was fearing.  
“Gallagher... Is this a date?”  
Ian swallowed his last bite slowly and took the time to drink some water.  
“No... I mean... Yes, maybe... Would it be so bad if it was?”  
The seconds seemed to stretch for longer than necessary while Mickey took his sweet time to answer. Ian's hands were starting to sweat, and he felt fidgety. Mickey looked down at his plate and played with a piece of food, before putting it in his mouth. Finally, fucking finally, he opened his mouth and answered – but kept avoiding Ian's eyes at all costs.  
“I guess it's okay... I just wished you hadn't have to trick me into it.”  
Ian tried to hide the giant smile he knew was coming.  
“I didn't think you would have said yes if I actually asked you...”  
Mickey looked up with a smirk plastered on his face.  
“Yeah, I would probably have told you to fuck off.”

******

Mickey couldn't bring himself to be angry at Ian for tricking him into a stupid date – and he didn't actually think the date was stupid. He wanted, he wanted so much to hate Ian and his huge grins, his bright eyes, and his weird ideas that always turned out to be more or less good – but he couldn't. He was married to the most annoying and hottest redhead he could ever care for – and that was probably the scariest thing Mickey Milkovich had ever lived.

The two men came back from the restaurant still laughing, their hands brushing against each other's every other step. The evening was almost perfect, until they made their way to the apartment and the door closed behind them. That's when the awkward silence settled in. They were both very well aware that usually when people dated they didn't live together, and the evening usually ended on each person going back home, or in them having sex for the first time – or almost the first time. They weren't married with a very active sex life and a _'no feelings'_ rule. Mickey stood awkwardly in the living room for way too long. Was he supposed to just go to sleep on the couch, or to join Ian in the bedroom and get naked? He didn't have time to make up his mind before Ian took gently his hand with one of his, and stroke softly his cheek with the other. The redhead slowly leaned in until his face was very close to Mickey's. The green eyes searched Mickey's face, hesitating. And finally Ian's lips met Mickey's. The black haired man closed his eyes and let himself being kissed, being held, he let his husband wrapped his arms around him, and he allowed their tongues to dance together.

The two men moved together toward the bedroom without ever stop kissing, not letting go of each other. Mickey let Ian undress him, before returning the favor. They touched each other's body with slow, gentle movements, trying to savor every second of it. Mickey's heart was beating out of his chest, and his stomach was tight, because he knew this wasn't like all of the other times they fucked, they weren't drunk, and this was definitely not just sex. It was more, so much more than that. The way they lied slowly on the bed, their skin touching in every single possible place, their lips never disconnecting except when it was absolutely necessary. They fucked slowly, face to face, eyes in eyes, breath meeting and moans melting. It wasn't just sex, not anymore. Mickey tried not to think about it too much, to let himself being carried away in the moment, but deep down he knew that what they were doing was what people called _'making love'_ , and it was scary, so scary...

*******

Mickey woke up nested in his husband's arms. It was the first time it happened since the retreat, all the other times they had had sex Mickey went back to the couch as soon as it was over. But this time he hadn't been able to leave. And he wasn't about to run away like he had done after the retreat. For the first time ever, Mickey Milkovich felt completely safe, and it was in the arms of Ian Gallagher.

The redheaded giant detached himself from Mickey, and the black haired man wanted nothing more than to drag him back closer to him, but Ian disappeared under the covers too quickly. He feathered Mickey's thighs with small kisses before sucking slowly his dick. It was a quick morning blow job, Mickey barely had enough time to register what was happening, he gripped Ian's hair, caressing the back of his neck, and was already coming into his husband's mouth. Ian moved back up and dropped a small kiss on Mickey's lips.  
“'Morning.” he said with one of his 1000 watts smile.  
“'Morning.” Mickey replied with a matching smile, hugging him tighter.  
They snuggled against each other for a few minutes. Ian was the first one to move.  
“I have an appointment with my doctor in an hour.” he explained while making his way to the bathroom.  
Mickey nodded, and decided to stay in bed a little longer. He finally raised his lazy ass when he heard noises coming from the kitchen. He put boxers on, and exited his bedroom. Ian was sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping his morning smoothie, a plate of beacon and eggs in front of himself, and another next to him, obviously for Mickey. At this moment, the black haired man realized how domestic all of this was. Yes, the two men had been living together for a while, and had been married for longer, but it was the first time they ever acted like it. And the thing that really freaked Mickey out was that he wasn't freaking out, he was totally okay with the situation. He smiled and sat next to his husband.

******

Ian had had the most amazing morning ever, after the most amazing date night ever. Mickey was his husband, finally, fully, and completely, and everything was good. His doctor was happy with how happy Ian was, and the redhead couldn't wait to get back home. Mickey was working all day in his warehouse, but they had plan to order Chinese food and watch a movie once he'll be done. Ian walked out of his doctor's building with a big smile plastered on his face and almost ran into someone. The person grabbed his arm to avoid falling and looked genuinely glad to see him.  
“Ian!”  
“Mason?”  
“Hey.”  
And for the first time, Ian didn't feel anything while seeing his ex. So he just smiled politely, and felt relieved of not being attached to him anymore.  
“Sorry, I can't talk right now. I have to get going. Sorry.”  
Ian started to walk away, but Mason caught him by the arm.  
“I want you back Ian!”  
Oh. Well. That was unexpected.  
“What?”  
“I made a huge mistake letting you go. I can see that now.”  
Ian smiled again. This guy was serious? He was kind of hilarious in his own way.  
“Seeing you the other day, you had this glow about you.” Mason continued. “Not that you didn't before, it's just sometimes it takes loosing something for you to realize what you had. I wanna make up for the wrong I did to you. Ian, you are good enough for me.”  
The words sounded familiar to Ian's ears. He had said that before, but not to Mason...  
“Where did you hear that?” he asked, defensive.  
“The weird guy with the tattoos you sent over to tell me you didn't want to see me.”  
Ian was genuinely confused now. Was Mason talking about Mickey? And when Ian did sent Mickey to see Mason? That was definitely not something he would do.  
“Mickey? Short guy, black hair, knuckles tattoos?”  
“Yeah, this guy.”  
Realization started to draw on Ian. What had Mickey done? He turned around, not even bothering to say goodbye to Mason, and rushed home.

 


	13. Love is a battlefield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for writing so slowly. Hope this isn't too bad...

 

Ian almost ran home. He was confused, and nervous, and on the verge of angry. What had Mickey done? He tried to call his husband a good dozen of times, but obtained no answer. The redhead slammed the door of the apartment, and tried to call Mickey one more time. A ring tone resonated in the apartment. It was coming from Mickey's desk. Ian lifted all the papers obstructing the device until he found it. Yep, Mickey had forgotten his phone home. Fuck. Ian sighed loudly, and tried to rearrange the papers, but one of them caught of his eyes. It wasn't filled with drawings, numbers and names of wood like all the others, it was a legal document. The redhead scanned it quickly. It was about them, their marriage, it was made for Ian to relinquish all of his rights to their money. And it was dated from the day before the retreat. What the fuck?

******

Mickey came back from work with a smile on his face. He never smiled for no good reason, especially not walking down the streets, but maybe that was what happiness was. He even felt like singing. What the fuck was wrong with him? He climbed the stairs two at a time, and entered the apartment ready to spend the most wonderful evening with his husband. But the redhead didn't seem to share his mood. He was sitting on the couch, looking down at the floor with a dull face.  
“Hey Firecrotch. What's going on?”  
Ian raised his head slowly. He waved a hand holding a piece of paper.  
“What's this?”  
Mickey came closer to see what his husband was talking about. He took the paper to be able to read it. It was Jeff's legal document. Shit. Ian had stood up and looked like he was expecting an answer. And a good one. Mickey tried to think quickly about what he could say. But his brains didn't work fast enough. Shit shit shit.  
“It's just some paper...”  
“You wanted me to give up the money?”  
“No, it's just...”  
Why couldn't he think about a good excuse? What the fuck was wrong with him?  
“This document is dated from just before the retreat. Before you became all nice, and the perfect fucking husband! Before I fucked you into the mattress and you jumped me whenever you could, before you fucking kissed me! Did you do all that so I would sign this fucking paper?”  
“No! … Maybe, at the beginning! But no! Not anymore.”  
“At the beginning? What does it even mean?”  
Mickey shook his head, losing all of his words, and watching Ian make his way to the bedroom. The redhead took his bag from under the bed and started filling it with his clothes. Mickey watched the catastrophe happens like it was in slow-motion, in a movie and he couldn't do anything about it, but he still tried.  
“Ian, come on. I'm sorry?”  
The redhead stopped moving and took a deep breath.  
“Did you talk to Mason? About me?” he asked, his voice low and menacing.  
“The guy is a fuckhead!”  
“So you talked to him?”  
“It wasn't like you think.”  
Ian emitted a dry laugh and kept filling his bag.  
“I'm done. I'm fucking done!”  
He swung his bag over his shoulder and started to walk toward the door. Mickey tried to catch up with his husband, tried to grab his arm to keep him here a little longer. But the redhead shook him away.  
“Ian...”  
“Don't even try!”  
“You know what? Good. Leave! The hell do I care, bitch!”  
And Ian did so, he left the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Mickey rubbed the palm of his hands over his eyes, pretending to be tired by this conversation, but really just trying to keep the tears at bay.  
“Fuck...”

******

Lip was heating up some leftover pizza in the microwave when he heard a knock on his front door. He opened it to find his brother, a bag over his shoulder, looking miserable.  
“I left him. Can I crash here?”  
Lip nodded and opened his door wider.  
“Wanna talk about it?”  
“He's a jerk.”  
Yep, Lip couldn't argue with that.

******

The phone kept ringing all morning. Ian knew who it was. Since the event of the night before, Mandy had first called every hour, then every half hour, and now it was every ten minutes or so. The redhead checked the caller ID, just in case, but it was indeed Mandy, so he decided to hide his phone under the cushions, and lied back on the couch. He didn't want to see anybody, or talk to anybody, and especially not a Milkovich. He wasn't depressed – Lip had been worried about it for a moment – just heart-broken. And angry. Angry at Mickey, and by extension, angry at Mandy, who, he was sure, had been in on Mickey's _'evil plan'_   the whole fucking time.

******

It was Mickey's first session with Dana since Ian had left. They waited in silence for a good half-hour before Mickey finally stated the obvious.  
“He's not coming.”  
The counselor nodded, like she already knew or some shit.  
“What happened?”  
Mickey had no intention to share, but Dana looked at him with such interest, that the man sighed deeply, and started to speak.  
“We got into a fight, and he left.”  
Dana scribbled some notes down.  
“What was the fight about?”  
Mickey twisted his hands on his laps, and tried not to look at the counselor when he answered.  
“Something stupid... Some stupid shit I did...”  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
Mickey shook his head, still not looking at the woman.  
“Not really.”  
“Are you feeling guilty?”  
Mickey snorted. Was he feeling guilty? Fuck, he'd been hating himself since Ian closed the fucking door of their apartment.  
“Do you think maybe Ian would want to talk about it?”  
“You mean talk to me?”  
“Or me. During next session.”  
Mickey almost laughed at that, because suddenly the reality hit him, hard.  
“He's not coming back. Not back home, not here. He's gone for good.”  
“How do you feel about that Mickey?”  
Sad. Crushed. Angry. Hating himself even more. But he tried to make all his feelings disappear with a vigorous shake of the head.  
“It was the fucking plan all along, wasn't it?”

******

Svetlana dropped Yevgeny at the apartment the very next d ay.  
“Husband not here?” she asked while Yev ran toward the bedroom.  
Mickey shook his head.  
“He's gone. For good.”  
“What did you do?”  
“What makes you think I did something?”  
“You're Milkovich. You did something.”  
“Yeah, well it's none of your fucking business.”

Because people couldn't stop giving Mickey shit, once Svetlana was gone, it was Yevgeny's turn.  
“Papa? Is Ian gone?”  
“What makes you say that?”  
“He's not here.”  
“Ian's never here when you are, kiddo.”  
“I know. But there was a picture of him with other people in the bedroom, and it's gone.”  
The kid was too smart for his own good. Mickey sighed and went to get himself a beer. He wasn't one to drink in front of his son – it reminded him too much of his own father – but there were times like this one when he really needed the alcohol. He popped the bottle open and drunk some of it, before answering the child.  
“Yeah, he's gone.”  
Yevgeny looked up with his big expecting blue eyes.  
“Why?”  
Mickey drunk more of his beer.  
“I did something stupid.”  
“Like when I broke mom's vase and spilled the water on the carpet?”  
“Yes, sort of. You know, even adults can do bad things sometimes, and they get punished for it.”  
“What did you do, daddy?”  
Mickey sighed and sat on the couch. His son followed him and sat next to him. That was exactly the kind of conversation Mickey wanted to avoid when he asked Ian to back off from Yevgeny's life. But it had apparently been too late. The kid shouldn't have been involved in this marriage in the first place.  
“I lied, and hid things.” he finally confessed. “You know how your Mama and I always tell you not to lie? Well that's not something just for kids. I didn't respect that, and now I regret it.”  
“So I will never see Ian again?”  
Mickey patted his son's legs. He wished he could tell him Ian would come back, but he knew way too well it wasn't the case, and he just made this entire speech about lying.  
“No, kiddo. You will not.”  
The little boy shrugged.  
“Too bad, I really liked his pancakes.”

******

BANG! BANG! BANG!  
Ian growled from under the comforter.  
BANG! BANG! BANG!  
“Lip, make it stop!”  
The man exited his home office and sent a death glare to his younger brother.  
“Or you could just raise your lazy ass from my couch!” Lip replied while he smacked Ian over the head.  
The redhead growled some more, and Lip went to open his front door.  
“Ian here?”  
The man recognized the voice asking for him immediately and buried himself deeper under the comforter, hoping Lip would sent the intruder away. Unfortunately, his brother didn't, and soon enough a hand was trying to lift the comforter away from Ian's face.  
“Ian, you're a fool if you think you can avoid a Milkovich by hiding under cheap polyester on your brother's couch!”  
“Go away Mandy! I don't want to talk to you!”  
“Don't be a child Gallagher, I want to bitch about my brother as much as you do!”  
Ian finally showed himself, and stood up so fast his head hurt.  
“I don't want to fucking talk to you Mandy! Your brother's an asshole, and don't even try to pretend you never helped him!”  
His voice was raising with each word, and Mandy answered in the same tone.  
“I didn't fucking help him! I didn't know about the document, and I sure as fuck didn't know he would talk to Mason! Come on, Ian! I thought we were friends!”  
“I thought that too Mandy! But I guess I was wrong!”  
The redhead was about to storm out of the room when his friend caught his arm.  
“Ian. Listen to me.” Mandy's voice had lost all of its anger, and the woman's touch was soft on Ian's arm. “I didn't help Mickey. I didn't know. My brother is a jerk, and I'm sorry. I want to be here for you, as a friend.”  
Ian thought for a few seconds, hesitating on what he wanted to say.  
“Did you talk to him?” he finally asked.  
“Yeah. He told me what he did, and I think he regrets it.”  
“Mandy...” Ian started, shaking his head slightly. “I won't go back to him. I thought that, maybe, he liked me, I even considered love, but I know now that I was just blinded by my own feelings. Yes, we were being jerks to each other at the beginning, but he went too far. I would have never done what he did.”  
Mandy smiled, like she understood completely.  
“So what are you gonna do? The judge ordered you to live together until the divorce, and you have a few weeks left.”  
Ian sat back on the couch.  
“Don't you get it? I don't care about the money anymore, I just want to get away from Mickey and this shit-show of a marriage. He can have all the money he wants, I'll even sign his fucking paper if I have to. I just never want to see him again.”

******

Jeff lit the joint, took a drag, and then passed it on to Mickey.  
“So you're single now?”  
Mickey inhaled the poison.  
“Not divorced yet.”  
“So I can't fuck him yet?”  
Mickey turned to his friend slowly.  
“You fucking kidding me, right?”  
Jeff seemed almost surprised.  
“What? He's hot!”  
“That's why you sent me that document? You wanted to break our marriage so you could to fuck my husband?”  
Jeff shook his head.  
“No. I gave you the opportunity to end this marriage on a high note. You were about to give half your money to a guy you wouldn't even fuck. At least, my plan involved you to be sexually deprived but rich.”  
Before he could reply, the front door banged open. Loud, too loud for Mickey's drunk mind fogged by Jeff's good weed. From the corner of his eyes, Mickey saw Mandy smacking Jeff behind the head.  
“Out. Now.”  
Mickey tried to contradict his sister, but his movements weren't really coordinated anymore. Once Jeff was out the door, it was Mickey's turn to be smacked behind the head.  
“What are you doing with this fucker?”  
“He's my friend.”  
“He's an asshole with terrible ideas that made you loose your husband. Stop hanging out with him. And stop listening to him.”  
Mickey shrugged. It was not like he cared anymore. About anything. Jeff's stupid plan, Mandy's opinion, Ian leaving... He smoked some more, and swallowed the rest of his beer.  
“You're gonna talk to Ian?” Mandy asked.  
Mickey burped, and walked to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, it was almost empty – only a couple of fruits left by Ian that were now rotten, some leftover pizza, and not enough beer. Mickey grabbed one of the last cans remaining, and opened it before drinking half of it in one gulp.  
“Nope.” he finally answered, while crashing back down onto the couch.  
“You're lonely and miserable Mick. You have to do something about it.”  
“Nope. I don't have to do anything. Divorce's in two weeks. It was always supposed to end anyway. Now or later, it doesn't really matter.”  
“It didn't have to end, Mick. Especially not this way.”  
“What the fuck do you want me do to Mandy? Beg him to come back? I'm not his bitch!”  
“You could at least apologize.”  
“I'm better on my own.”  
“No, you're not.”  
“Get the fuck out.”  
“Fine. Be that guy. Be the asshole who doesn't care. Let Ian be right. He's better off without this version of you!”  
“GET THE FUCK OUT!!!”  
Mandy sighed loudly, and left the apartment without looking back at her brother. Mickey didn't care anyway.

******

Fiona put the bottle of beer down on the counter, just in front of her brother. Ian pushed it away.  
“You know I don't.”  
The woman shrugged and opened her own bottle.  
“I just thought you needed it. You look so miserable.”  
The redhead nodded absentmindedly.  
“What happened?” Fiona asked.  
“I left my husband.”  
“Why?”  
“He was a jerk. He just... He screw me over.”  
“There's no way you're getting back together?”  
“Divorce's next week.”  
Fiona put her bottle down.  
“So, you ever gonna tell me who the fuck was this guy?”  
“Mickey?”  
“Yes, Mickey. Where did you meet him? Why did you marry him? What was the scam?”  
Ian shook his head.  
“There was no scam.”  
“Ian. I know you. The only Gallagher stupid enough to marry a guy this fast is me. I've always known Mickey and you weren't really married. Or if you were, you had something to win from it.”  
Ian smiled. His sister was indeed very intuitive. So he decided it was maybe time for him to tell the truth. He walked to the fridge to exchange his beer bottle against one of orange juice and started talking. He told Fiona almost everything, Vegas, the drunken night, the wedding, the money, the judge's order, the cohabitation, the counseling sessions, Mason, the document Mickey hid, and the sort-of-breakup. The only thing he omitted was the sex, and the kissing, and the feelings. What feelings? No feelings.  
“When did you realize you were in love with him?” Fiona inquired once Ian's story was over.  
The redhead avoided his sister's gaze.  
“I'm not in love with him.”  
Fiona smiled knowingly.  
“No, of course you're not.”

******

“Court is called to order.”  
Mickey and Ian were both sitting on their side of the courthouse, facing the judge, and avoiding looking at each other. Once again, they hadn't felt the need to hire lawyers. But this time, Fiona, Lip, and Mandy were here to attend the trial.  
“Well, look who's here.” the judge started. “The happy couple. Six months down the road. Did you learn anything?”  
Nobody answered, and the two men kept their gaze fixed right in front of them.  
“Okay, I see.” the judge continued. “Doctor Twitchell,” he added while turning to Dana, who had just taken the stand. “In your opinion, did the couple, Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich, obeyed the court order to live together as husbands, and did you believe they put sufficient effort into the marriage?”  
The counselor looked at the couple, her gaze staying a few seconds longer on Ian, before she talked.  
“These two have a lot of issues, a lot of deeply unsettling issues that, as individuals, they seriously need to work on. But together, in my honest opinion, they're perfect for each other.”  
Ian kept his eyes fixed on Dana, not blinking enough for it to be natural. He felt Mickey's head turn to look at him, but stayed determined to not reciprocate. He was standing by his decision to end this marriage as soon as possible, and he knew that looking at Mickey would not help, he'd want to either punch him or kiss him, and neither of these options would look good for the judge.  
“Thank you doctor.” the judge said. “You may step out.”  
The magistrate looked down at the papers sitting in front of him.  
“It appears that Mr Gallagher ran up a few bills, and that Mr Milkovich spent about the same amount in material for his new furniture business. Therefore, the 1.45 million dollars remaining after taxes and the money already spent, is to be divided equally between the two parties. Do you both accept?”  
Mickey nodded agreeingly. But Ian stood up.  
“No, your honor, I do not. I do not want any of the money. I just want a divorce.”  
“Mr Gallagher, are you sure?”  
“Yes, your honor, I am.”  
“Well I hereby grant the divorce and award all the money to Mr Milkovich. Court adjourned.”  
The judge stroke his gavel, and Ian started to make his way out of the courtroom, walking as fast as he could. He knew his family would let him go, and he would join them for dinner later anyway. But he wasn't expecting his ex-husband to follow after him.  
“Ian, wait!”  
The redhead waited until he was outside the building before he turned around.  
“You win Mickey.” he declared, trying to keep his voice steady. “I officially want nothing from you.”  
And that the last thing he said to the black-haired man before walking away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter. Will they end up together in the end?


	14. Ian & Mickey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. The last chapter. I'm sad this is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's controversial, but I actually love the idea of Ian being a firefighter. It just makes total sense to me. So, yep, as much as I can, Ian will be a firefighter in my fics. Deal with it.
> 
> Also, I have some trouble with Sean since season 6 started, but because I had already introduced him as Fiona's husband in this fic, it was too complicated to change it. So yeah, I'm not really shipping them, but whatever.

 

_6 months later..._

 

Ian closed the door of his apartment, and turned around in the hallway, only to face an old woman in her 70s – maybe even 80s – holding a plate full of cookies.  
“I made you cookies.” she said, like it wasn't obvious.  
“Thank you Mrs Miller.” the redhead replied with a smile. “But I'm actually going out right now. Could you hold on to them until I get back?”  
“Sure, sweetie.”  
And with that, Ian's friendly neighbor was back into her own apartment. The redhead had moved in two months ago, and since then the woman had came to him with plates of food every other day, like she was scared he couldn't cook for himself. He wasn't complaining, the woman was nice, and her cooking was delicious, but it was sometimes a little creepy.

Ian went down the stairs and exited the building into the street. He hadn't really left the South Side since Mason broke up with him, and Ian had move in with Mickey. After leaving Mickey's apartment, he had lived with Lip for a little while, until his brother got too much on his nerves, so he had moved back with Fiona. And finally he had found this place. It was a crappy building, and his apartment was small, but it was safe enough, and for the first time in his life, it was entirely Ian's. His own home for which he payed the rent himself, every month, on time, with his new job he absolutely loved. Most of the furniture were hand-me-downs, but it was cosy, and comfortable, and, most of all, it was personal. Ian's own little space. The space he never had when he shared a room with three siblings, or an apartment with another man.

The Gallagher house was already buzzing with excitement when Ian pushed the front door opened. The usual sounds of kids screaming and adults laughing made their way quickly to his ears. Fiona welcomed her brother with a warm hug before leading him into the main room. The first thing Ian noticed was that every adult in the room came in pair, Kev and V, Fiona and Sean, Carl and Bonnie, Debbie and her new fiancé – today they were celebrating their engagement, and nobody was supposed to know yet, but secrets weren't really a Gallagher thing – and Lip and...  
“Mandy?”  
“Hey Ian.”  
The two friends – or whatever they were these days – hugged each other, before Ian stated the very obvious but very disturbing truth.  
“You're with... my brother.”  
Mandy smiled shyly.  
“Yeah, that happened. Sorry I didn't warn you.”  
“No, it's fine. We haven't really talked in a while anyway.”  
Ian smiled at Mandy, Mandy smiled back, and an awkward silence settled. They used to be good friends, but they never got over the elephant in the room, the big subject they couldn't talk about and which, slowly, had started to eat their friendship alive. Fiona's hand on Ian's shoulder came breaking the weird silence.  
“I invited someone for you.” the oldest Gallagher murmured in her brother's ear.  
Ian grunted.  
“Fiona. I told you, I don't need you to set me up every chance you get. I'm fine on my own.”  
“Come on, your only social interactions are with us, or with your weird old neighbor. It's not healthy.”  
“I have friends at work. And I can meet guys if I want to.”  
“Well tonight let me help you. He's a sweet guy I met at work. You'd be great together.”  
Ian sighed and let himself being led by his older sister into the kitchen, where a plain white guy with perfect hair, perfect teeth, and perfect everything was pretending to laugh at one of Kev's jokes.  
“Oh come on Fiona.” the redhead complained. “He looks boring.”  
“He's not. Well... He could be worse. Go talk to him!”  
And with a push on his back, Ian stepped closer to the guy, who introduced himself as Jason, or James. Jacob? Ian was only half listening to him. He was really boring. They made small talk for only a couple of minutes, before Debbie – thank God for her existence! – interrupted the chatting of the crowd by tapping a spoon on her glass. Everybody turned to listen to her. Ian had never seen her smile that much while talking about another person than her daughter. Actually, the redhead noticed that all the people around him seemed happy. The children were blissful in their innocence. The couples were in love – even Lip and Mandy looked like they were. And Jason-James-Jacob was just wearing a dull smile that seemed to summarize his entire personality. And Ian felt suddenly very alone. There had been one time where he was very happy himself. For only a few short weeks, he was in love, and happy, and bathing in blissful innocence – or maybe it was naivete in his case. It had been six months, but Ian's heart still ache when he thought about his ex-husband, the elephant in the room, the forbidden subject of conversation. He was not completely lying when he was telling Fiona he didn't want to date anyone, that he was happy on his own. He was actually appreciating to learn to live on his own, to learn to define himself as a person, and not as a part of a couple. But maybe, deep down, he knew that nobody he could date would meet his expectations of a perfect husband. Only one man could, but he had screwed things up for himself, and Ian was learning to live without him, and finally started to feel like he was slowly moving on.

******

Mickey entered the office with apprehension. The last time he had set foot here it was a year ago, and he had been fired. Jack Fuller made a vague hand gesture, asking him to sit, and Mickey obeyed in dutiful silence.  
“How is your business going Mickey?” Jack inquired warmly.  
“Good. I'm not having a regular salary yet, but it's enough to pay my rent every month.”  
Jack smiled.  
“You know, I'm proud of you kid. You finally made something for yourself, and you didn't give up, even when it was hard – and I'm sure it had been hard, I've been through this myself when I built this company.”  
Mickey nodded, and returned Jack's smile. He felt good with himself, he really did. Everything Jack was saying was true, and Mickey was now happy and thankful he had been fired in the first place.  
“You remember what I told you about a year ago, when I fired you?”  
Mickey nodded again. Of course he remembered.  
“I told you I see you as my legacy, and that I wanted to leave you the shop one day. I wasn't lying Mickey. You're the son I never had. And today you proved to me that you were able to handle that legacy, which wasn't the case a year ago. And you know, I feel it's time for me to retire. But I don't want to ask you to give up what you started to build to come run the place here, just because I said so. I actually had what I think is a better idea.”  
Mickey was listening carefully, until Jack stood up and went to take a sign that was leaning against the wall near the door and that Mickey hadn't seen while coming in. Jack held it up for Mickey to read. ' _Fuller & Milkovich, homemade furniture_'. Mickey felt his mouth open on its accord. Jack put the sign back down.  
“I thought we could merge our two businesses, and be equal partners, with you in charge of the company, while I enjoy my well-deserved retirement with the money I can still win from our arrangement.”  
Mickey's mouth was still wide opened from the moment he had read the sign. It was one of the very rare moments in his life when he felt like he could cry of happiness. Finally noticing that Jack was waiting for an answer, he pulled himself together as best as he could, before finally speaking.  
“Okay. But I want 65%.”  
It was probably not the wisest thing he could have said at this moment, but Jack didn't seem offended, and just laughed.  
“60%. I love you like a son, but I still need to pull some wage out of this.”  
Mickey stood up and put his hand out for Jack to shake.  
“Thank you, sir.”

The two men quickly found themselves in a bar to celebrate their new deal over beers.  
“So, what about this husband of yours?” Jack asked after his third beer.  
“I screwed up.” Mickey confessed, already half drunk. “A big stupid mistake. Actually, the entire marriage was a lie.”  
“Really?”  
Mickey nodded.  
“Really.”  
“The marriage might have been a mistake, but it was not a lie. I only met your guy a couple of times, but it was obvious you really cared for each other. And I think that anybody who had spent time with you two could tell you that. Kinda reminded me of me and Deirdre when we were young...”  
Mickey nodded vaguely, and ordered something stronger.

By some miracle, he made it home alive. After Jack's honest truth about him and Ian, Mickey had drunk more alcohol than he thought his body could handle. And he woke up the next morning with the biggest headache in human history. So he slept all day. He finally came out of bed the day after that, and dragged his ass down to _Fuller & Milkovich, homemade furniture_ to sign some legal papers he only barely understood due to his remaining of hangover. When he dated and signed the last document, something clicked in his mind. He recognized the date. He had spent the last six months trying to not think about the only person he wanted to think about. He avoided Mandy, because he knew she was still friend with him. Svetlana knew better than to bring up the topic. And it was easy to direct Yevgeny into another conversation. Jeff was out of the picture since Mandy had kicked him out of the apartment all those months ago – Mickey seriously regretted to not have done that before his sister – and Mickey wasn't in the mood to date, or even to fuck anybody else. He was married to his business, and it was good enough. He had also been careful to not spend all of his Vegas money, because somehow it felt like half of it wasn't really his. So it felt quite normal to Mickey that when Jack asked questions about Ian, his reaction had been to drink enough alcohol to give himself a several-days-long hangover. But the date, today's date, brought something new in him. It lit a new fire he didn't know could exist. And Mickey Milkovich made a decision.

******

Ian was sitting on the sand, facing the small waves of the lake, his ginger hair shining under the dim light of the sunset. It was probably the most romantic and cliché picture Mickey had ever seen. But the man fought all of his strongest urges - to laugh or run away - to go seat next to his ex-husband. Ian didn't move, and didn't look at him, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.  
“Happy Anniversary.” Mickey said, because he didn't know what else to say.  
He saw Ian smile.  
“I don't think it counts when we've been divorced for six months.”  
Mickey smiled too. Yeah, maybe the whole idea on itself was ridiculous.  
“How did you find me?” Ian asked, finally looking at Mickey, but not meeting his eyes.  
The black haired man shrugged.  
“Mandy gave me your address, you weren't there. I went to the fire station, they told me you didn't work today. Then I went to the Gallagher house, and I thought Fiona was going to burn me alive – I don't think your family really likes me. But anyway, nobody could tell where you were. And that's when I remembered you telling me about the beach in your picture. By the way, do you know how many beaches there are along Lake Michigan and inside the city? Twenty-four. It took me forever to find the right one.”  
Ian laughed lightly. The sound made Mickey's heart skip a beat. Fuck, he had missed it. But the moment was over too quickly, and soon there was just silence between the two men. Unsettling silence that Mickey needed to break. So he just blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.  
“You know, I think Lip and Mandy are fucking.”  
“I even think they are dating.” Ian answered simply.  
And so it was back to silence. Mickey sighed. Ian was looking back at the horizon, it didn't seem like he wanted to say anything anytime soon. His face was just calm and peaceful, his green eyes fixed on the waves, and the very hint of a smile on his lips. He looked... content. And Mickey couldn't help but stare at him. He looked at this pale skin, and freckles he had missed so much. The line of his jaw. The light of the sun in his hair. But soon, way too soon, it was too much and not enough for Mickey all at once. He dropped his gaze to the sand.  
“I'm sorry, I screwed up.”  
Ian didn't say anything, so Mickey continued.  
“I think... I think I started to panic when I realized I had feelings for you. So I grabbed onto every opportunity to be a dick, because it was the first time I ever felt that for anybody. When we were married I was horrible, and wrong, but it was the happiest I've ever been. You made me happy. You bet on me, you believed in me, and you made me want to better myself.”  
Mickey felt Ian's hand grabbed his, and he looked up to find green eyes staring at him. Ian leaned down and kissed Mickey slowly on the lips. It was a short kiss, but Mickey couldn't stop smiling when Ian pulled away. Securing the redhead's hand in his, Mickey asked the question he thought he would never ask in his entire life.  
“Do you think maybe... Do you want to be married to me? Again?”  
“No.” Ian answered simply, but before Mickey's heart could fully break, he added: “I don't want to marry you, yet. I want to start over. I want to date you, to get to know you, without the bullshit, the melted spatulas, and the weekly counseling. I want to meet your son, and I want to hear his story. I want to hear your story. I want the real you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so... mushy. But it's the first time ever I finish a multichapter story, and I'm super proud of myself for finally finishing something. And also kind of proud of my last sentence. It was hard to decide where to stop, and I hope I didn't do too bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, leave comments, feedbacks (and eventually kudos), everything to help me make this better.
> 
> Come say "hi" on Tumblr! Let's talk, be weird together and then be friends: ilostmylifeonline.tumblr.com


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